Gregor and the Uncharted Lands
by Feltbeat
Summary: There is no place more shrouded in mystery and feared by all creatures than the Uncharted Lands. What will be made of Gregor and his Underland companions when they're thrown haphazardly into the darkest of darks, in a race against time?
1. Prologue

**Gregor and the Uncharted Lands**

**An Underland Chronicles Fanfic**

**By Feltbeat**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Underland Chronicles or any of the characters. They belong to Suzanne Collins. I do however, own all of the OCs, plot, and creativity. **

PROLOGUE

Through the long-bladed grass, sounds of scurried footsteps were emitted, clear as daylight against the silence of the surroundings. Tiny little footsteps, and padded feet bounced off of the soft, mossy flooring, and the flickers of tails could be seen if one looked closely. One was but a little bloody stump, leaving trails of red behind as it darted in and out, between earthly obstacles, such as rocks or large bushels.

When at last the quick movements ceased, it was near the entrance to a small, jagged cavern.

"Listen to my words," the rat said to her pup, who looked up with large, round eyes, fear being the dominant feature on his face. "Go inside the cave, and _stay there_. No matter what you might hear, or see, or think, _do not leave_. Do you understand?" The little pup nodded its head frantically. His mother had never spoken with such urgency, not in his lifetime. This must be serious. "Good. Now go on inside – hide as far back as you can, and cover yourself with something if you can. Here – " the rat drew out a thin glass vial, and broke it open on her paw. Clear liquid spilled from it, heavily scented with foreign fumes. The mother grabbed her pup, who was busy trying to squeeze his plump little body into the small cavern entrance. His mother could never fit inside.

She smeared the liquid all over the confused pup's body, who shriveled up his nose at the strong smell. The sensitive tissue surrounding it had not yet reached its full-grown stage, so the fumes were not only unpleasant, but painful. "Momma…" he whimpered, as a particularly nasty sting made its way through his cartilage.

"Shhh…it will be alright. You will be okay…it will be okay…" the mother rat said soothingly, running another handful of liquid through her pup's fur. "Do not worry…everything will be alright. Shhh…" Tears poured from her eyes, and she wiped them away quickly so that her pup would not see. She needed to be strong, for him. For his sake.

There was a noise, some distance behind them, which made the two rats jump up in surprise as it was emitted. The rat felt chills creep up her spine, and rubbed the liquid with more urgency. When at last the entire vial was used up, the noise became more frequent. Louder…closer…

"Alright, go on inside," she told the pup, giving his behind a nudge, so that he would squeeze in through the narrow opening. Once inside, the pup peered through the entrance with those humongous eyes. And there was the noise again.

"Momma…what is that?" His voice sounded terrified and confused simultaneously. The older rat didn't know what to say.

The bushes in front of them moved. No – it must have been her imagination! But there it was again – that casual sway of leaves, along with several crackles of fallen branches. The wind couldn't have done this – there was no wind. Only moist, humid air, thick with the scent she'd just got done rubbing on her pup. Pray Sandwich that he be alright…

"Momma loves you very much Cutcer," she whispered into his ear, sticking her muzzle in through the opening. "Do not you ever forget that!" She finished on a certain note of urgency. "Now go! Go, bury yourself! Now!" The little pup scurried away quickly into the depths of the cavern. There was only enough time for the rat to shove a handful of dry leaves into the hole before the wall of bushes broke.

Spinning around, the rat found herself almost face-to-face with the most horrifying thing she had ever seen. In that very moment, her entire life flashed before her eyes. The awful incident at the Garden of Hesperides, where the dike was broken by a killer, drowning her mate and countless others…the wretched life she and her pup had spent, wandering aimlessly in the outskirts of the rats' own lands, for fear of showing her face there again…all of the cold, damned nights when the two of them slept on the freezing ground, with nothing but the sound of Cutcer's empty stomach, wailing in tune with the wind…

And now here she stood, staring into the eyes of a beast, her heart skipping a beat or so every now and then. She couldn't fight. Hell, she could barely stand on her hind paws. She could feel her heart pounding in her ears, deafening her.

She opened her mouth, unable to take her eyes off of the wild ones in front of her. "Don't – "

But she never got the chance to finish what she wanted to say. Long, sharp teeth that felt like daggers tore into her weakened, defenseless body, reopening older wounds and creating new ones with immense ease. The torn patches on her skin felt as if they had been set to flames, which in turn enveloped her whole body, spreading quickly. She was blinded almost instantly, as red blood poured to her eyes, and burst through. She was losing the rest of her senses too, and soon she slipped out of consciousness, becoming limp in the large jaws of the beast.

Cutcer watched the entire thing unfold in front of his big eyes. He had forgotten all about the pain in his nose – it no longer existed. All that was there, was Cutcer, his mother, and the large creature that had dimmed her light with a single bite.

Cutcer remained quiet during the scenario, and when he saw the signs of struggle cease, his eyes silently passed over the gory remnants of what had happened.

He suddenly understood his mother's request for him to stay hidden no matter what, for leaving his nest and embracing the same fate as Leatherface, his mother, suddenly came to mind. Indeed the idea appeared welcome and inviting, but yet he made no movement. Only watched, his breathing corrupt against the silence.

He looked on as the creature began to dine upon the body. There was little meat to pick off of the bones. Cutcer watched Leatherface's blood smear on the creature's face, which broken into a manic expression.

That was about as much as the pup could handle, for he felt dizzy and lightheaded, and soon hit the mossy flooring with a soft _THUD._


	2. Chapter 1: Instability

**Gregor and the Uncharted Lands**

**An Underland Chronicles Fanfic**

**By Feltbeat**

**Thank you to those who reviewed – I've been motivated to write the first chapter because of them. And I've been made happy. ^^ **

**So…you've read the prologue, and you wonder what will occur. Sad to say, there is only one way for you to find out, and that is by reading this fanfic. I'm hoping that it will grow on some people. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Underland Chronicles or any of the canon characters. They belong to Suzanne Collins. I do however, own all of the OCs, plot, and creativity. **

Chapter 1

Instability

"Orange, dear?"

Grace entered – no, flowed – into the kitchen with a most positive aura about her, and Gregor didn't need to take a moment out of his life to think about why, for he knew better than anyone. Nonetheless, he knew he was glad to see his mother so happy and worry-free. The last five years had been close to unbearable for her, and Gregor was sure that once everything was over – if everything would ever be over – she would never be the same. His father certainly hadn't gone back to the way he was after his own experiences. Gregor's twelve year old sister Lizzie had been the same. In her situation, however, Gregor was utterly bewildered at the changes in behavior. He had been expecting her to bury herself even more into the layers upon layers of shells the girl had around her, and completely drown in her insecurities. But Lizzie had done quite the contrary, and turned around completely, becoming more and more like Boots daily. Like Grace, Lizzie smiled more often now, and had begun to explore new things which had been impossible for her to try a few years ago without having a panic attack.

And Boots...no one seemed to know what to do with her anymore. The little seven year old had become even more feisty than ever, and couldn't stay in one spot for more than a second. If you didn't keep your eye on her, she was bound to get into something. Gregor thought back to when Lizzie was her age, and pondered how very different his sisters were.

"No thanks. I've really had enough," Gregor answered his mother's question, and motioned to the empty plate in front of him, with the exception of a few bread crumbs and leftover remnants of jam. Yes, they could afford jam and oranges, now that Gregor's dad had gone back to work last year. Two paychecks were really much better than one, and soon the family found able to treat themselves to some of the finer things in life.

"Now Gregor, don't you be turning away your vitamin C, or you'll wind up getting scurvy like the sailors do," his dad said, winking. It was hard to have a normal conversation with the man nowadays, without him bringing up some sort of educational point. Of course, it wasn't very different from the way it was before the…

Gregor didn't say anything and took an orange from the brown platter in the center of the table. He didn't feel like getting into a discussion with his father about how sailors from long time ago that were at sea for years at a time without any fruits or vitamin C got scurvy, and so he silently peeled the citrus. When the pried the center apart and separated the pieces, a mist of juice struck him in the face, making his eyes water. The feeling wasn't entirely unpleasant, but when he reached up a hand to wipe the drainage that slid down, the action did not go by unnoticed.

"Gregor, darling, are you alright?" his mother dropped the pan in her hand, probably burning the pancake on it in the process, and hurried over to him, placing a hand on his forehead with unnecessary care. "Do you not feel well?"

Gregor felt terrific physically. It was a little watering from the citrus juice – Grace's reaction was most uncalled for. This wasn't new, however. The last few years were very much like this, with Gregor's mother ready to call for an ambulance if he so much as complained of a headache. So most of the time Gregor kept his mouth shut, not wanting to be the start of a sequence of chaos. If he did experience the occasional symptoms of the cold or flu or some other sickness, he took care to conceal his suffering as much as possible, so that Grace wouldn't overreact.

Today, however, seemed like an ideal day to bend the chains that he'd worked so hard to build all of these years. Whilst he felt perfectly fine, the last thing he felt like doing that day was going to school. Doing so the first few years after…..had been extremely difficult for him. Socializing with his friends, concentrating on normal things like algebra or biology, and simply being in a place filled with others who were so different from him – it all made him nauseous and filled with extreme unease. As time passed, however, he began to learn how to blend in all over again. It wasn't easy, and for the first time he understood just how his dad felt when he came back. Everything appeared so very foreign and strange, lacking bare necessities and things he'd grown to know and love. Gregor had been very fortunate to have friends like Larry and Angelina, who stuck with Gregor no matter how odd he acted or how anti-social he'd behave. Had it not been for their persistent attempts to knock some sense into Gregor's head, he most likely would have continued to drift along the halls, staring with huge eyes at everything around him, questioning its purpose. That was a very unhappy time for him.

But despite the progress that Gregor had made in getting back in touch with his average, normal, human teenager, he still dreaded each morning that he would have to get out of his bed and go to the place where the real average, normal, human teenagers went. No matter how hard he tried or pretended, no matter how many masks he wore, there would never be enough deception to conceal who he really was.

And today he wanted to go to school even less than the norm, which simultaneously surprised him and yet not. He knew that there would need to be some point in time when he wouldn't be able to keep up with the masquerade he was putting up, but couldn't understand why fate chose today to be that particular time. Not that he believed in fate. Or luck, or fortune, or any other crap like that. There was only life, and it sucked. That was as complicated as those kinds of things got.

"I…not really. I guess I have a slight stomachache…" Gregor said, making his voice sound strained, and closed his eyelids halfway to add emphasis. He allowed his voice to trail away in a pained tone. The whole thing was very believable, but the added drama turned out to be unnecessary. Grace didn't hesitate to shove a thermometer into his mouth and fetch the telephone.

"You're staying home today. And I don't care if you think that you're overreacting," she said when Gregor opened his mouth to "protest." "If you're feeling anything less than perfect, you're going to stay here. I'm calling the school to let them know." When the thermometer gave a beep that signified a found temperature, Grace hardly even glanced at it. "Good morning, this is Grace…yes, Gregor's mother. Gregor won't be coming to school today… I know. Yes. No, he's got a stomachache, and I'm afraid his condition will prevent him from concentrating on his classes. Yes… Thank you for understanding. Goodbye." It had been a surprisingly long conversation for the report of an absence, but Gregor didn't question it. People with stomachaches were supposed to sit with their mouths closed and moan every now and then, which is exactly what Gregor was doing. As uncalled for as the gestures may have been, since he'd accomplished his goals anyway, he wanted to get the point across completely.

"You will need to get lots of rest, and drink lots of liquids, do you hear? Stay in bed and try to rest…mmm, Grace, this is great!" his dad said, taking a bite of pancake.

"I'm glad you like it," Gregor's mother answered, but there was no optimality in her voice. "He's right Gregor. Do as he says, and you will feel much better much faster."

"I will," Gregor answered, and felt his heart sink as the lie slipped out completely naturally. The thought scared him when he lingered on it for too long – how much easier it had become to lie to his parents now. One might call it the typical teenager stage, but Gregor knew otherwise. "I think I will go on to my room now, it feels like it's getting worse…" he choked on the last word purposely, and began to retreat.

"Take care, son!" his dad called after him. Grace, however, was not satisfied with a mere vocalization of goodbye. Dropping whatever was in her hands at the moment, she rushed over and caught Gregor's hand before he got too far. Her skin felt cool against his, making Gregor wonder if he really did have a fever – he hadn't bothered to look at the thermometer reading.

"Gregor, please get well." Her voice expressed deep concern, and yet she still managed to smile. "Please. Promise me that you will take care while we're gone."

Gregor met her eyes directly and didn't blink. "I promise," he said, voice thick with emotion that he'd been trying to conceal. Grace didn't appear to have noticed, however, nor did she find a trace of fib in the sincere, honest voice Gregor used.

"Thank you. And Gregor…" she looked him in the eyes as well, gripping his hand tightly, "I love you."

"I love you too mom," he said, and wondered how it was that the words managed to come out without an emotional breakdown. They exchanged a smile, and Grace released his hand, allowing him to retreat in a gait more hurried than normal. She took no notice, however, and went back into the kitchen to scrape off the ruined pancake from the pan.

Gregor, meanwhile, practically flew to his room, glad for the apparent lack of attention his parents paid to detail. Had they been only a little more observant, things such as Gregor's indifferent attitude towards life in general would have stood out like a sore thumb. He did his best to conceal it, and while his best appeared to be good enough, it had to be only a matter of time before someone caught on. All he needed to do was wait, and someone with eyes will come along, and destroy the fortress Gregor had worked so hard to build.

Turning a corner, Gregor entered his relatively small room and closed the door behind him tightly. The thing never did latch properly to where it was supposed to, because the lengths of the sides were horribly out of proportion, so Gregor had to kick it several times every time he wanted privacy. The door would jam into the small, crammed opening, and when he needed to open it again, he had to pry it apart. The entire thing was very annoying before, but now it was just part of his daily routine, which in turn never seemed to be routine in the first place.

When he turned around to face his bed, however, he found Lizzie sitting on it, her skinny legs crossed, and her face melancholy.

Now, Gregor was far unlike any other big brothers he knew. He didn't mind it if Boots or Lizzie went into his room without asking for permission or went through his things – he didn't have anything of value or secrecy here. He allowed them to play in his room as long as they didn't make too big of a mess, and quite often their company was most enjoyable. But at the moment, Gregor really wanted to be alone. It was why he'd lied to his mother with a completely straight face. So at the moment, Lizzie's presence wasn't most welcome.

"What is it, Liz?" Gregor asked, trying not to appear too irritated.

"You're not sick," she said without question, looking at him with a slightly expectant gaze. Gregor sighed and sat down on the rusty chair beside his desk. Lizzie wasn't an idiot. He didn't say anything however. "Why are you staying home today?" Gregor needed to take only one look at her face to understand where this was going.

"No, Liz, it isn't what you think. I'm not, you know, going to do anything. Or go anywhere. I just really need a break. You can understand that, can't you?" He added the last part in hopes that Lizzie would remember the times when panic attacks were a constant for her – so much so that she often missed school because of them. But those words were, in fact, a very wrong thing to say.

"Yes, I can understand completely. But I can also understand what it feels like. Being away. Waiting for the time when night will come so you can make your petty escape. It kills you on the inside, this anxiety, wondering what will await you. I've noticed it become a constant in your behavior – you expect more adventures."

Gregor couldn't believe what he was hearing. Lizzie hadn't really spoken all that much to him at all lately, so the little speech she had presented him with was very out of character. But it wasn't so much the quantity of the words as the quality. The context of her preaching stung. Deeply.

"More adventures?" Gregor's voice was hardly more than a whisper now. He neared Lizzie and placed a hand on hers. "Liz, don't you think I've had enough adventures for a lifetime? Do you really think that I'm eager for more? For more death and violence and destruction?"

She appeared to consider his words. "No. But I think you have an unquenchable thirst for more excitement, purpose, and love."

Gregor didn't know what to say. He knew that arguing with Lizzie would be useless – her level of stubbornness had been rapidly increasing lately. "Expand."

"I'm not sure I need to," Lizzie said. "You may not agree with me, but I can see that you feel a lack of purpose here. You don't feel accomplished if you aren't feeling excited, and let's face facts – excitement has been long gone from this place."

"In case you don't remember, I never wanted to be the hero. I never asked for anything to happen to me – it all did on its own accord," Gregor retorted. He felt like a fool, arguing with his younger sister. But he knew not too underestimate Lizzie's maturity level – it was higher than anyone knew.

"Did it?" she countered. "What forced you to go back each time, and fulfill each prophecy like a puppet? What made you risk your life so many countless times?"

Gregor said nothing. He knew it wasn't his choice – he couldn't have said no even if he wanted to. Not while a certain face burned in his retinas whenever such thoughts crossed his mind.

"Which brings us to point three," Lizzie said lightly, and her expression softened considerably. "Your feelings cause you great pain when you aren't with the object of your attraction." She put it into strange words, but Gregor understood. What was more, he knew she was right, thought he made no comment on the subject.

"Why the sudden confrontation anyway?" he asked, trying to get to the point of the whole thing. Glancing at the clock on his desk, Lizzie had only minutes to finish getting ready for school. It was time to wrap up the conversation.

Lizzie gave an exasperated sigh. "Greg, what makes you think that you're the only one walking around daily with the insuppressible desire to visit a part of you that will never go away?"

It took him a moment to comprehend the way she phrased it, but once the gears clicked into place, he stood from the chair and eyed Lizzie with a bewildered look. "You want to come."

Lizzie nodded, though she didn't need to. Gregor had finally understood what all of this had been leading up to. She probably couldn't care less that he wasn't going to school. She was only looking for a reason to confront him. "Liz…no."

There were clear signs of hurt on the girl's face, but Gregor had a feeling his rejection would not be taken without resistance. "Why not, Gregor? Give me a good reason for why not."

Gregor could think of hundreds of reasons for why not, but his throat dried up, and he felt himself gag when he tried to speak. "You can't…"

"I can't what? Handle it?" The understanding of what Gregor meant to say became mutual. "Greg, listen to me." Lizzie slid down from his bed and walked over to him, her eyes boring into his. "Every single motive you have for going – I have as well." Gregor felt like guffawing at these words, though he did not. His motives were so incredibly complex that even he had trouble to understand them. To think that Lizzie shared them was pure humor. "No, think about it. When I broke the Code of Claw – I felt incredible, like I was finally doing something that would benefit somebody else. It was an amazing feeling, knowing that you made a difference in the lives of living things, that what you did had impact on those around you. What impact do my actions have on anyone here?" Gregor had to admit that he could not think of anything.

"What of Jedidiah? He's happy when you're with him. You listen to what he has to say. That's a pretty good reason right there." Gregor was actually pretty impressed with himself for having come up with the idea so quickly.

Lizzie, however, was not bombarded. "Jedidiah has made other friends recently. I serve of little purpose to him now that he has others who will listen to his ideas." This was news to Gregor – Lizzie had never told them of this new development. She spoke again before Gregor got a chance to intervene. "You must see my point of view here on this. Down there, I have purpose. Down there, I find excitement that does not exist anywhere else – excitement that I enjoy and _can_ handle. And, down there I have a significant object that acts as a magnetic pull in my heart, yanking it closer and closer."

Gregor had to smile at Lizzie's comparison. "And what might that object be?"

"Ripred."

He shouldn't have been surprised at Lizzie's one-word answer, but he was still taken aback, mostly due to hearing the name said aloud for the first time after a good four years. Anything to do with anything that was not above ground had been a forbidden topic, banned from all discussion – in reference or subject. The law was unwritten, but it was a law nonetheless – one that everyone obeyed with great precision, for their own reasons. Grace – because she was, in a way, the creator of the law. Gregor's dad – because he loved Grace and respected her wishes. Lizzie and Gregor had similar reasoning – because they wanted to continue to live in New York. It was made clear, yet without the use of words, that if the subject is brought up more than a few times on accident, it was off to Virginia for the whole of them. Gregor would never admit his reasons, but he knew that leaving NYC would only corrupt him further.

Boots…she didn't really take other people's opinions into consideration. If she wanted to talk about her day at school, then she would. If she wanted to talk about carrots, then she would. If she wanted to talk about things beneath their feet, then she would. Gregor couldn't believe how incredibly fortunate it was that his mom didn't count Boots's free spirit and limitless mind against their odds of sticking around.

"Oh."

Had Gregor been capable to come up with something wiser or more than a single syllable's worth, he would have said it, but standing there in a room that no longer felt his, nothing came to mind.

"You understand, I know you do. Don't deny me my wishes while yours are fulfilled nightly. You're kept apart for sixteen hours, whilst I've been away for four years. I know you will not believe me, but I think my pain is just a _little_ greater than yours right now."

She was right – Gregor _didn't_ believe it. But she made a fair point in that it was indeed quite a long time since the topic had been discussed, and even longer since Lizzie had gone beneath the surface of the ground.

His sister stood up off of his bed and walked toward him. It was incredibly how much taller they two of them had gotten in time. Lizzie was still a good four inches shorter than Gregor, who was pushing six feet in height now. "Greg, I'm going with you tonight. My mind is set, please do not make this difficult. The less resistance you put up, the easier and more enjoyable the experience will be." With that, she walked by, brushing his sleeve slightly with her shoulder, and exited pried open the door Gregor had kicked closed, leaving it wide open behind her as she headed downstairs. Gregor could hear voices, but he was unable to make out the things they said. Kicking the door closed again and giving himself a splinter in the process, Gregor plummeted atop his bed with an audible thud, closing his eyes in a notion of distress.

He felt completely torn, as well as a mixture of many other emotions that normal sixteen year old boys shouldn't feel, about the situation in question. He couldn't say that he didn't see the importance of the visit to Lizzie. She and Ripred clearly had a bond that he did not know the specifics of, but it appeared to be strong nonetheless. What kind of person would he be to break this bond? And then again, what kind of big brother would he be to allow his little sister to come with him to one of the most dangerous places in the world?

It appeared that unless Gregor said otherwise, Lizzie was going to assume she could come. And even if he tried to dissuade her, it would only cause a bigger hassle, which was something he most certainly did _not_ need. Listening carefully, Gregor heard the slam of the front door from the living room – a sign that everyone was out of the house. His mom gone to drop off Boots and Lizzie at school, then to work, and his dad to the high school to teach. He was home alone.

The next few hours were a lot less exciting than Gregor imagined. There wasn't much to do, so he kept himself busy by eating bananas and watching the local news channel. He was never fond of the news, mostly because in New York hardly anything good happened. He was not proven wrong when he watched the man on the television talk about this and that. A mugging here, a dead body there, a car turned over here, a roof collapsed there, and poverty everywhere. The only thing that came out of the whole hour was Gregor felt more and more appreciative of their rapidly bettering situation. At least they had a roof over their heads and could eat three good meals every day.

Gregor disposed of his banana peels and took a peek outside, drawing the curtains open slightly. Snow fell from the sky in a beautiful fashion, creating a sparkling blanket of white on the ground. The sight was rather breathtaking, despite the fact that Gregor hated the snow. But now that he was inside, dry and warm, he was able to appreciate the beauty before him, watching a fat snowflake land on the window. He hoped that his parents wouldn't have any trouble getting to their destinations in this weather. Already he'd helped Mrs. Cormaci push her car out of a snow bank where it'd gotten stuck.

Christmas was only a week away, and getting slightly into the spirit of the holiday season, Gregor made himself a cup of hot chocolate, and even added a few marshmallows into it. As he cleaned up after himself in the kitchen, he wondered how it was that things appeared to be going so smoothly, and yet he still felt so miserable. The answer was clear, but it still took him time to form it in his head – it was because he wasn't home. His home was in a place miles beneath his shoes.

Sipping slowly, he stretched out on the living room couch, leaving the curtains open and television on. Before he knew it, Gregor dozed off.

When he at last awoke, who knows how long later, it was because of the phone, which was ringing right in his ear. Groaning, Gregor made himself turn and blindly grope around until his hand found the phone. "Hello?" his voice was tired and muffled.

"What's going on, Gregor? Why didn't you pick up the phone the last three times I called? Do you have any idea how worried I was? I was ready to come home!" Grace's paranoia was very clear in the tone of her voice.

"I fell asleep, mom. I'm sorry." Gregor didn't need to try and sound sick – his slightly hoarse voice and occasional yawns did the trick perfectly.

Grace appeared to have calmed down considerably after hearing her son's voice. "Alright…okay. How're you feeling, darling? Is your stomach any better?"

"No, not really. I think I might be getting a fever as well." That last part _was _true. Gregor hadn't checked his temperature, but it certainly felt like his forehead was warmer than the norm. "But I have been getting rest, and I've gone through a good five glasses of water," he added before his mother had a chance to ask.

"Good. That's very good, Gregor." She paused for a moment. "Get better soon, sweetie. I love you."

"I love you too, mom," Gregor said in that same raspy voice, and after he hung up the phone, he sat on the couch without movement for what seemed like hours, but was really a few minutes. When he moved, his muscles and joints screamed in protest, longing more rest. This was _not_ going according to Gregor's plan. In it, he was having a good time relaxing and enjoying his life as much as he could, not feeling like hell.

Deciding to make himself useful, Gregor picked up around his room a little bit, gathering all of his dirty laundry together, and heading down to the laundry room. He wore a gray hat and pulled it down as far as it would go without covering his eyes, so that the people in his apartment would not question his being out of school, doing laundry.

Walking over to the first machine he saw, Gregor piled the clothes inside without bothering to sort them out from lights to darks. Money in, change out, a stick of gum in the mouth – Gregor did all of these things without missing a beat. All appeared well until his gaze turned to the slit by the forbidden grate.

Carefully tucked inside was a scroll, made of paper Gregor recognized only all too well. Feeling numb, he walked over to it and gave it an odd, measuring look.

A message from the Underland.


	3. Chapter 2: Less Than Perfect

**Gregor and the Uncharted Lands**

**An Underland Chronicles Fanfic**

**By Feltbeat**

**Thank you for the reviews. I'm sorry for the enormous gap between updates, but I went on a pretty lengthy vacation that took up most of my summer, where I couldn't take my laptop. I got back only a few days ago. I'm pretty tired right now, but I wanted to update this story. So here's chapter 2 for you. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Underland Chronicles or any of the canon characters. They belong to Suzanne Collins. I do however, own all of the OCs, plot, and creativity. **

Chapter 2

Less Than Perfect

Gregor waited until he got back to his room before so much as glancing at the scroll again. His heart raced and the pumping of blood through his body accelerated. However, he soon found that he didn't need to look at the item in his hands to see it. The familiar texture was firm and rough beneath his sensitive fingertips, and he could almost feel the outlines of the delicate letters that remained hidden. He held it carefully – like a bomb that could go off any second, or a fragile crystal figurine. Gregor had precious few items from the Underland in his procession, for souvenirs of such sort were less than welcome anywhere within a large radius around Grace. Still trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible, Gregor clutched the scroll tightly to his chest, as though trying to conceal it in the shadows from the rest of the world. He started to make his way up the stairs to the apartment room with a fair gait, but in a matter of seconds it grew tremendously, until Gregor was as close to running as he could get without actually calling it so. As he reached inside his pocket for the key, he almost lost hold of the scroll, hanging on to it by a mere two fingers. Forgetting how to breathe for a precious moment, Gregor slipped inside the room and closed the door as quietly as possible.

As soon as Gregor made an unnecessary round through their living quarters to be sure that he was indeed alone, he placed the scroll down on the dining table carefully. Biting down on his tongue with some amount of force, he peeled off the seal and unraveled it. He leaned back against his chair and stared at the writing for several long seconds without actually seeing the words as individual pieces. When at last his vision slipped back into focus, he gripped the handle of his chair tightly, expecting the absolute worst as he started to read.

_Dearest Overlander,_

_It would be most gracious of you to join us down in our lands tonight, at your usual time. It is with the utmost urgency that we ask you to come despite any complications or doubts, no matter what. Thank you for understanding._

_ Yours truly,_

_ Vikus _

It was shorter, and much, much sweeter than what Gregor had anticipated. After all, why would they choose to send him a message in broad daylight, when they would be seeing him in just a matter of hours, like always? Upon seeing the scroll at first, Gregor had ultimately gone over the edge in imagining all sorts of worst case scenarios that must have happened. But, to his extreme relief, there were no awful obituaries or prophecies contained in the message. His worries were instantly calmed – but not wholly.

Why would Vikus send a message to make sure that Gregor would absolutely come tonight, despite the fact that Gregor would have done so anyways? What made him act with such urgency? What happened? Gregor's head was spinning with questions – questions that his pessimistic mind could only find unhappy answers to. Unwilling to even think about them, Gregor tried to clear his thoughts of everything and to concentrate on what he had to work with. The key was to refrain from thinking of what could have gone wrong, and to instead focus on one step after another. That sounded like something that a therapist might say – take one step at a time, don't overwhelm yourself – but Gregor needed to get back on track with his train of thought.

The first thing to do was put the message out of his mind as much as he could and clean up the place before his dad and sisters got home. Gregor picked up the scroll, wrapped it back around itself gently, and went back up to his room, where he stuck it into the small, unnoticeable crack between the far end of his bed and the wall. He originally intended to keep that spot for his most valuable things, but there had never been many of those, so the space remained vacant. Although it was impossible to spot the scroll in the crack without actually going over to the corner and looking down, Gregor still took care to cover it with a small blanket.

There wasn't a lot to clean up since Gregor didn't make much of a mess in the first place, but he knew that his mom would appreciate the extra help nonetheless. A couple of his dad's socks were strewn across the floor, which Gregor hastily picked up and tossed in the laundry bin, which in turn had been empty before that. Boots's toys were mostly in the corner of the living room, beneath a small table. She liked to pretend that it was her cave, crawling out to retrieve items, and back in to organize them in her own ways. Bending down, Gregor found his youngest sister's stash, which was mostly composed of random items. Toothpicks, an old Bible, an apple, four paper airplanes, a curtain rod, one of Grace's shoes, and three bottles of nail polish. _Where_ she'd gotten the nail polish was a mystery to Gregor, since his mom kept all of her make-up up in the highest cabinet in the bathroom, and Lizzie didn't like to wear it. As he thought about it, however, Gregor began to see a very easy way that a seven year old girl could move a couple things around to be able to reach that cabinet. Shaking his head and smiling, Gregor stacked the items off to one side, so that there would still be space beneath the table for otherwise things.

As Gregor washed the cup he used for hot chocolate, chewing on another stick of gum, he accidentally turned the faucet switch the opposite direction. The temperature of the water changed instantly from room temperature to a blistering hot. Yelping, he snatched his hand out from the fiery water, biting his tongue in the process. He tasted blood, but not a lot. Trying to keep calm, Gregor wrapped his stinging hand in a dish towel, shutting the water off with the other. As soon as he was out of the kitchen and in the bathroom, he examined the damage. His hand was red and swollen, and he could feel his blood running through the veins and arteries, creating a strange, uncomfortable feeling. Trying to remember what to do in this situation, Gregor rummaged underneath a kitchen cupboard, eventually retrieving a bottle of olive oil. Pouring some in his good hand, he smeared it around on the burned one, being careful not to apply too much pressure on his stinging hand. As soon as that was done, he took an ice pack out from the freezer and carefully placed it atop his hand. Almost immediately he began to feel the pain start to recede. Deciding to take it easy for at least a little while, Gregor sat down in the reclining chair next to the dining table. Already parts of his hand were starting to become numb from the cold, but he didn't want to remove the ice pack just yet.

All in all, Gregor had done a pretty fair job when it came to avoiding thinking about the message from Vikus. Although burning his hand was a complete accident, it definitely took his mind off of the more serious things, if only for a little bit. Now that his mind was relatively free of thought, it drifted back to the previous events, which in turn were less than pleasant. Gregor flinched as a particularly awful thought ran through his mind, and imagined himself thrusting a dagger into his own face. For a reason that was a complete mystery to him, Gregor could stop his flow of thought by picturing himself mutilating his own face or body in gory, painful ways. Squeezing his eyes shut tight, he saw the dagger in his hand lift up and spear through his head. One stab, two stabs, three stabs, four stabs. In the end, Gregor was left literally without any thoughts in his head, looking at a very messy sight. Gregor sighed, and ran a hand absentmindedly through his hair, enjoying that rare moment when it was just him and only him there, without worries and without anxiety.

The moment was short lived.

Some things in life just seemed to happen right on cue, and those particular seconds felt like exhibits A, B, and C to Gregor. As soon as he started to – dare he say it? – relax, the door burst open, and the quiet room was suddenly filled with the sound of three conversing voices. Groaning internally, Gregor turned his head to find that his dad and sisters were home.

"Gregor – hello son! Are you – Boots, no, put that down! – are you feeling better?" his dad asked loudly, snatching the cane from his sister's hand. He had used that cane earlier when he was sick himself, and now it was stashed in the corner behind the door. Boots was clearly upset at the taking of her newest find.

"But Daddy! Can't I play with it? _Please?_" Both Gregor and his dad knew that if you denied Boots anything material, not only would she throw a fit, but she would find a way to get her hands on it later anyways. Sighing, his dad handed the cane to Boots, who leapt up and down with delight and ran to her and Lizzie's room – no doubt to have fun with it.

"Oh, what happened to your hand, Gregor?" his dad asked. Gregor looked to find that the icepack was still there, and set it down on the table. His dad didn't wait for an answer however. Taking off his coat and shoes, he asked, "How's your stomach?"

"Hey Dad," Gregor said morosely. "I _am_ feeling better. I guess it must be the gallon of water I drank today."

"Well, see here! I told you that drinking liquids would help." His dad looked ultimately pleased at having been right – blissfully unaware that Gregor was lying to his face.

"Yeah, you did. Thanks Dad," Gregor said and forced a smile.

"Any time, son. But listen, since you're feeling better, could you watch your sisters please? I have a stack of papers to grade that's a foot thick. Each staple is holding about ten papers together, so it'll take at least a few hours…" His dad talked on and on, but Gregor listened – or at least pretended to. This was nothing new. From the moment his sisters came home from school until his mom came home, Boots and Lizzie were his responsibility. By the time dinner was cooked, Gregor was ready to eat Lizzie's homework, and by the time the dishes were done and kitchen taken care of, he felt like passing out. He had about an hour before everyone else in the house fell asleep, and then it was down to the Underland. With all that was going on, Gregor was surprised that was still functioning as well as he was. True, it was far from perfect, but taking his situation into consideration, it could have been a lot worse.

"Don't worry, Dad. I'll take care of them." Gregor kept his voice as neutral as he possibly could.

His dad smiled. "Thank you, son. Boots will need a snack, of course. Don't let her eat anything junky. Other than that, good luck." With that, he retreated into his own room and closed the door behind him. It was just Gregor, Boots, and Lizzie.

Speaking of Lizzie, where was she? Gregor hadn't seen her since she came in, and was beginning to get worried. "Liz?" he called quietly, not wanting his dad to hear and come back out. "Liz, you there?"

"In here," his sister called from the kitchen. Exhaling in relief, Gregor followed the voice. When the kitchen finally came into view, Lizzie was sitting at the dining table, a textbook, a notebook, and a pencil being her only company. Gregor sat down next to her and peered at the book. Algebra. Figures.

"Doing homework?" Gregor asked casually.

"Mhm." Lizzie's eyes didn't even lift to look at him, and Gregor wasn't sure what to make of that. "What happened to your hand?"

"Burned it under faucet," he mumbled. "How was your day?"

Lizzie turned a page of the textbook. "Oh, you know. Same as always." They were talking pretty much as they usually did. It was almost like the morning's conversation never happened. But Gregor knew better than to think that Lizzie had forgotten about it.

"And is always good or bad?" he inquired curiously.

"Always is alright," Lizzie said with a noticeable lack of emotion and life to her voice, mimicking Gregor's own in a more feminine way. She kept her eyes on the paper and scribbled something down.

"Doing homework?" Gregor repeated stupidly.

Lizzie looked at him for the first time since she's been home, and her eyes were full of suspicion. "Yeah…I already told you that."

"Right." Gregor scratched at his head, trying to come up with something amusing to say. He had nothing.

"Was there anything in particular that you wanted?" Lizzie asked softly, keeping her voice sweet and innocent. It was a hard voice to distrust.

"No, just wanted to see how you're doing. Do you want a snack?" Well, two could play at that game. If Lizzie wasn't going to talk about tonight, then neither would Gregor. He knew that he was behaving childishly – he should have sat down and outright told Lizzie that there was no way in hell she was going to go anywhere tonight. But somehow, as those words formed on the tip of his tongue, they shoved themselves back into his throat, gagging and choking him. He felt a bitter taste form in his mouth and longed to go rinse it out.

"No, I'm fine. I'll wait until Mom gets home. But Boots will probably want something. Do you want me to slice an apple for her?"

"Could you please?" Gregor asked kindly. He really didn't enjoy being on less that good terms with his sister. She was one of the few people who could actually understand how he was feeling. Although, that wasn't always a good thing…

Lizzie nodded and got up, reaching for a knife and a large Granny Smith apple. Gregor took this opportunity and made a beeline for the bathroom. He poured some water from the faucet into a disposable paper cup and swished it around in his mouth until the bitter taste had vanished. He still wasn't sure where it came from, exactly, but it also wasn't his first encounter with it. Just a few days ago, he experienced the exact same taste, completely out of nowhere.

Once Gregor was positive that there was absolutely no trace of the foul taste in his mouth, he heard a loud crash coming from upstairs. Gregor froze for a split second, unable to imagine that he was really this stupid.

Boots. Boots. How could he have forgotten about her? What had she gotten into? Gregor almost slammed through the bathroom door and flew up the stairs, skipping three with each stride. When he got to the second floor, he was in such a hurry that he slipped on the linoleum and landed face first on the floor. "Ah! Dammit! You idiot, watch where you're going!" he scolded himself silently. Of course, Grace would staple his mouth shut if he said such things out loud in front of Boots.

Boots was sitting atop the dresser she shared with Lizzie, organizing what had to be at least twenty bottles of nail polish in some odd sort of order. Following his sister's gaze, Gregor's eyes landed on the floor, where broken shards of a nail polish bottle were scattered all over. The nail polish – which was a bright shade of red – leaked out and all over the linoleum floors. One of Boots's stuffed teddy bear's arms was covered in similar red blotches.

"Oh, Boots, what happened?" Gregor said, stepping around the spill and lifting his sister off the dresser and into his arms. She was still lighter than a feather to him.

"I'm sorry, Gregor. It rolled off of the dresser when I wasn't looking." Boots did in fact look sincerely sorry, but she was instantly distracted by Gregor's messy hair, and began to play with it, swinging strands of it back and forth.

"It's alright. Go into the kitchen, okay, Boots? Lizzie has a snack for you. And please stay in the kitchen too." Gregor's voice was far from stern. He tried his best to avoid being rough or harsh with Boots, whom he loved way too much for his own good.

"Yum!" Gregor set Boots down on the floor, and she hopped down the stairs, humming something unfamiliar to Gregor. He sighed and glanced back at the broken container. Thank God they didn't have carpeted flooring. The stain would never, _never_ come out of fabric. At least linoleum would be easier to clean. Breathing in the heavy nail polish fumes, Gregor went back to the bathroom for a container of Clorox disinfecting wipes. His mother told him not to use these unless he had to, because they were rather expensive. But Gregor really couldn't see any other way to clean up the mess. Back in his sisters' room, he tossed the broken bottle into the trash, as well as the visible pieces of glass that were lying around. He would have to sweep the entire floor, however, to make sure that he got everything, because even a very tiny piece of glass was enough to penetrate skin. Already feeling worn out, Gregor pulled out a couple of the Clorox wipes and began to work.

It was lucky that Gregor came when he did, because the nail polish hadn't had time to dry yet. It was really much easier to wipe it off when it was wet, instead of having to scrape it off when it was hard and dry. He hoped that Grace wouldn't be too upset that Gregor had already gone through five wipes. Somehow she was able to clean the entire living room floor and leave it spotless with just one. Shaking his head with incredulity, Gregor started to crawl around the room on his hands and knees, wiping the linoleum off with a wipe. He could feel tiny shards of glass getting caught in the wipe's moisture, as well as a few larger pieces that he'd missed. He disposed of the soaked wipes in the trash can. As soon as he stood up, he found a couple of glass pieces stuck in the fabric of his jeans, and brushed them into the garbage as well.

Praying to a God he didn't believe in that Lizzie and Boots were alright, Gregor hurried back to them, and to his immense relief found that they were both sitting at the dining table. Boots had a mouthful of apple slices and Lizzie was still working on her homework. As he glanced at the paper again, Gregor noticed that it wasn't math anymore, but social studies. The bolded title was "**Taxation Without Representation**". So they were learning about the start of the Independence War.

Gregor grabbed a napkin from the kitchen counter for Boots to wipe her face off. It was incredible that for the moment he didn't have anything to do. Enjoying the peace and quiet while it lasted, Gregor heard a strange noise coming from the living room that sounded very much like singing. Sure enough, he'd left the television on. Right now, a woman was singing "Silent Night" in front of a live audience somewhere in New York. What with Christmas being so close, the city was preparing to show itself off to the rest of the country, putting up one hell of a masquerade. Decorations hung up on doors, a blanket of snow covering everything in sight, little kids playing on the ice, obese drunk Santas on every street corner. Even Gregor had to admit that Christmas in New York had its charms.

For a few seconds, everything was almost perfect. A peaceful quiet had slipped into the house, and as the snow fell outside in a gentle, fluffy manner, the music in the background couldn't have been better. Just as Gregor was beginning to get lost in his own little world, the sound of car breaks screeched from outside, killing his happy moment instantly. He ran to the window, hoping that it wasn't his mother. Luckily for him, it was just a passerby, whose car skidded in jagged patters across the icy road, missing a large tree by what looked like no more than a foot or so. The driver looked very pissed off, and Gregor could hear him swearing from across the street. Merry Christmas indeed.

It felt like everything was very short-lived nowadays, for Gregor. His daily schedule was packed with as many duties as he could handle and more, but everything always seemed to fly by with immense speed. He came to treasure those rare moments of peace and quiet with his whole heart, knowing that they would soon be interrupted by one of the many controlling aspects of his life.

And sure enough, it was only a couple of minutes before that growing feeling of dread slipped back into Gregor's mind, making him shiver. He felt more and more uneasy by the second and longed for the day to come to a close. Every moment that he was here - not knowing what was happening beneath his shoes – was a moment of torture and misery. It would be so much _easier_ if he didn't have to keep the whole thing a secret from his family. Every lie he told, every time he snuck out, every excuse he made – they all added heavy weights to his back. It was incredulous that his back hadn't snapped in two yet. But Gregor supposed it was only a matter of time…

His sisters remained wonderfully quiet, and although Gregor supposed that he ought to have been concerned, he was far too busy in savoring the moment. The seconds ticked by, and much too soon he heard a car pull up into the driveway. Grace was home.

The first thing Gregor noticed was that she took her time getting out of the white Chevy Corsica, which usually meant that she had a long, hard day at work. Gregor could easily make out the outline of the vehicle, even against the snow, as there was plenty of road dirt on it to distinguish it from its surroundings. The second thing Gregor noticed was that his mother retrieved a plastic grocery bag from the back seat that looked bulgy. This, he knew, meant that tonight Grace would be cooking fresh dinner instead of reheating leftovers. A silver lining and a cloud simultaneously.

Upon seeing his mom struggle with the grocery bag and her work bag, Gregor hastened to open the front door for her. She was out of breath.

"Gregor!" was the first thing out of her mouth, and then she enveloped him in a huge hug. There was something large and heavy in the grocery bag, and as Grace's arms swung around him, the bulges whacked against Gregor's shoulder roughly. He flinched. "Oh, I'm sorry darling! Could you take these into the kitchen please? I bought some potatoes for dinner tonight."

Gregor took the rock hard potatoes off of his mother's hands and set them on the counter. As he turned to head back, Grace met him halfway, arms open for yet another hug.

"Come on, mom. I'm not a teddy bear," Gregor said, but with a smile on his face. Grace released him, beaming up at her son, who was a head taller than her now.

"I know, honey. I'm sorry. How are you feeling? Your father called and said that your stomach had eased up. Are you sure you should be walking around? Maybe you ought to lie down…" His mother's voice poured out, thick with concern.

"No, mom, I feel terrific. Definitely going to school tomorrow." Gregor tried to sound excited about the thought, although this was contrary to how he was feeling. "Never better."

His mom definitely perked up at hearing this. "I'm so glad. I was really worried, you know. If you want to stay home tomorrow, that's alright. I don't want you to risk your health."

"No, really. I feel fine. I'm going to school tomorrow," Gregor said, wondering where this sudden enthusiasm was coming from.

"Okay. I'm glad you're feeling better, sweetie. How are Lizzie and Boots?" Grace looked much more at ease now, so Gregor allowed himself to relax as well.

"They're great. They're in the kitchen. Boots had a little accident with some nail polish. Apparently she knows where and how to get it."

"Oh, dear!" his mother gasped. "And here I was, thinking that was the one place she couldn't get to. What sort of accident?"

Gregor's brows frowned. He didn't want to go into detail and risk his mom getting all worked up over a tiny incident like the one that occurred. "It was nothing, really. It just spilled on the floor a little bit, but I cleaned it up. You can't tell that anything happened now. There are no stains." Gregor decided against mentioning the soiled teddy bear at the moment.

"Okay. Alright." Gregor could see his mother trying to keep from making a big deal out of this. She was inhaling deeply and exhaling in short, raspy puffs. "Alright. Well, I guess you're all starving by now. Where's your father?"

"In his room. He said that he has a lot of papers to grade tonight, that it will take him a few hours. I don't think he's left the room since he arrived." Everyone knew how his father got when he was working. He didn't leave the room for anything – not to go to the bathroom, not to get a snack or a drink. Nothing except dinner would lure him out, for he got so absorbed in what he was doing.

Grace laughed, and her whole face lit up in doing so. Gregor always thought his mom had a very pretty laugh. She had a face born to smile, and Gregor blamed himself for demolishing that smile so often with his selfishness. It really wasn't right.

"I swear, that man works way too hard. One day he will become one with those papers he spends so much time with!" Gregor chuckled as his mom's joke, but only halfheartedly. The other half was miles beneath the ground. It really wasn't fair to his mom. He wanted to be able to give her all of his heart. She deserved it after all she'd done for him. But then again, he also wanted to give all his heart to someone else. Someone with beautiful silvery-blonde hair and purple eyes. This feeling of being torn was his blessed joy of living a double life.

"I got a new recipe from a co-worker of mine today," his mom continued, heading into the kitchen, "that I really want to try tonight. Gregor, would you be a dear and peel, say, eight potatoes for me?"

"Sure thing." Grace already took a large pan out from the lower cupboards, and was now raiding the fridge for ingredients. Gregor took out a cutting board, a knife, a large bowl that he filled with water, and opened the bag of potatoes. He wasn't very good at doing this. Often he missed the angle of the knife and ended up taking a huge chunk of the vegetable off along with the peel. Nonetheless, he got to work, while listening to his mom talk.

"Leanna said that it's a very healthy meal, and very satisfying. You end up feeling full, but in a good way. Not the kind where you're completely bloated. There's lots of energy vitamins and other good stuff in it. Now, there are lots of vegetables in it, so it'll be a challenge to get Boots to try it. But of course, once she tries it, I'm sure she'll love it." Gregor nodded his head, struggling to work around an almost entirely spherical potato with the knife. Yes, that usually was the way it worked with Boots. Of course, it would be easier to tell her that what she was eating really _wasn't_ a vegetable, but she wasn't stupid. She'd know anyways. All they had to do was get her to try it. From then on forth, it would be a smooth sail.

Altogether, it wasn't completely horrible. His mom told him about her day at work, and the highs and lows of it. Gregor listened and gave "mhms" and "yeahs" and "wows" whenever it was appropriate. The challenge came when Grace began questioning him about his day. Gregor found it extremely hard to concentrate on peeling the potato and trying to remember what he ate for lunch simultaneously.

"I ate a couple bananas, I think…" Gregor said slowly, narrowly missing his finger with the knife.

"You _think_? Don't you remember?" There was that concerned voice again from his mother.

"No, no, I remember. I ate the bananas. Then I watched sandwich and ate a TV." Gregor placed a potato that he was finished with in the bowl of water, to prevent it from drying out, and took out another one.

His mother stopped chopping up the squash she was working on and turned to face him. "Pardon?"

It took Gregor a moment to figure out the cause of his mother's reaction. "Oh, sorry. I meant, I watched TV and ate a sandwich."

The worried look on Grace's face did not face. "Are you _sure_ you feel alright, Gregor? You can stop with the potatoes any time you want and just go lie down."

"No, mom. I'm fine. Really." Gregor was starting to feel like a parrot, constantly saying the same things over and over again. "Please, don't worry about me. I feel good. I feel great. I feel wonderful. Never be – OW!" Gregor's voice was abruptly cut off as a stinging pain slashed through his previously burned hand. He didn't realize that he was still peeling the potato while he was talking, and the knife slipped, cutting straight into his previously assaulted hand. As the shock of the impact wore off, the pain kicked in. This was different from when the hand was burned. He could feel his heart beating in the wound as warm blood began to spill out, soon covering his entire hand in red. The pain was deep and hot and stung horribly. Gregor didn't want to look at it, and yet his eyes remained glued on the sight.

"_Gregor!_" Grace dropped the knife and the squash on the counter, and was at Gregor's side in an instant. "Oh, my God! Gregor! Are you alright?"

In truth, Gregor had had injuries far worse than this, and far more painful. Even though this was more than a mere paper cut, it wasn't enough to bring tears to his eyes (although that really wasn't a fair comparison, since it took so much lately to bring tears to his eyes).

"Yeah, I'm fine. It's okay, it's not bad."

"We need to take care of this right away!" his mom all but yelled, and began to rummage around in the kitchen for the first aid kit.

The noise attracted Boots and Lizzie's attention. They peeked from around the doorway to see what all the commotion was about.

"Mom, what happened?" Boots asked playfully, sure that this was all something good. Grace whipped around at the sound of her daughter's voice.

"Go in the other room girls. Go back to the living room, and stay there please. Gregor and I have to take care of something."

"But Mom – "

"_Now_, please, Boots. Lizzie, you too." And although it was clear that neither girl was thrilled with the idea, they obediently left, clearly not wanting to upset Grace even more than she already looked. "Oh, it's in the bathroom, isn't it?" she asked no one in particular, and ran out of the kitchen. Gregor took the opportunity to run his bleeding hand under the faucet. The cool water felt good against his wound, washing the blood and impurities away. Never before was Gregor this thankful to have taken a first aid class at the local hospital once, for already twice today he'd had to provide care for himself. He let the water run just a little longer, and when he was done, his mother returned with a first aid kit that looked much too large for convenience.

"Alright, what do we need?" Grace asked, but Gregor was sure the question hadn't been meant for him. She rummaged around in the box for a while until she found what she was looking for – a bottle of hydrogen peroxide and a roll of sterile gauze. "Give me your hand, Gregor." Gregor obeyed and let Grace take hold of his painful right hand. "Now, this will sting some, but we need to pour some peroxide into the cut, so that it won't get infected." He could smell the strong smell of peroxide as his mom unscrewed the cap, and gripped the edge of the sink counter with his left hand as she poured the liquid into his arm. It stung like crazy, making Gregor's eyes water. Thankfully he didn't have to suffer the feeling long, for Grace started to wrap the gauze tightly around his hand. Gregor knew it was important to add pressure to stop the bleeding, but did it really have to be _that_ tight?

"Uh, mom? I don't think that – "

"You'll be alright, sweetie. You'll be fine. Momma will take care of you. Just keep still." She didn't let him finish a sentence as she hovered around his hand like a bee. Already she'd gone through one roll of gauze, and opened up a second one.

"Mom, I really don't think that – "

"Hush, Gregor. I know it hurts, but you have to be brave and let me finish this."

"But Mom – "

"I'm almost done, honey. You'll be alright now." Gregor's hand was now double its original size, courtesy of the amount of gauze Grace wrapped around it. He decided to give up trying to explain to his mom that this was really too much, and that she was making an enormous deal out of nothing. He knew that she wouldn't listen, and even if she did, she would still do things her own way.

When at last his mother released his hand, Gregor couldn't move any of his fingers, and had no mobility over his wrist. The cut didn't even extend to any of these parts, but Grace had wrapped his entire hand up from the tips of his fingernails almost to his elbow.

"There you are, now, Gregor. It'll heal quickly, especially with you being so young." Gregor nodded and made a feeble attempt at a smile. "But I don't want you in the kitchen right now. I'll finish the potatoes. Go on into the living room and keep an eye on your sisters, alright? Dinner won't take long…"

"Sure." Fighting hard to prevent himself from tearing the bandages on his arm up into shreds, Gregor went back to the living room. Boots and Lizzie were sitting together on the couch, watching the live Christmas performance on TV. Gregor joined them casually, taking a seat on the rocking chair across from them.

"Hi Gregor!" Boots greeted him happily, and ran to sit on his lap. He flinched as she accidentally brushed his hand. "Me and Liz were watching this lady sing. She has a really nice voice, don't you think?"

"Liz and I," Gregor corrected, smiling. "Yeah, she's good. What about you, Liz? What do you think?"

Lizzie didn't look at him. "It's alright. Personally, I like Celine Dion much better. What happened to your hand _now_?"

"Uh…I cut myself while peeling potatoes. Mom wrapped it up for me."

"Yeah, I noticed."

Gregor didn't know what to say to that. His sisters didn't appear particularly talkative tonight, so he let them watch TV in silence. As always, however, time seemed to fly by with ecstatic speed, and before he knew it, Grace was calling them from the kitchen. "Dinner!"

Boots was out of the living room before Gregor knew what happened, and Lizzie followed her, with a slower, more graceful gait. Gregor, on the other hand, sat on the couch for a consecutive minute before going over to his parents' room. He knocked thrice on the hard, wooden door. "Dad, dinner."

"Be right there!" his father called back, and Gregor heard sounds of scurrying inside. At last his father exited the room, indeed looking exhausted. "Hello son. What happened to your hand?"

Gregor sighed. How many times had he been asked this question that one day? "I cut myself peeling potatoes."

"Oh, no! Did you make sure to sterilize it? Did you use peroxide? Because peroxide is great when – "

"Yeah, Mom took care of it," Gregor answered hurriedly, not in the mood for a medical lesson. He let his dad go first and followed closely behind to the kitchen, where his mom and sisters were already seated at the table. Since there were five of them and they had an oval-shaped table, his parents sat opposite each other on the two opposite ends, Lizzie and Boots shared a long side, and Gregor got the other long side to himself. It made him feel a little outcast and lonely, but he didn't like any of the other spots particularly either.

In the very center of the table was a large bowl, filled with what was their dinner, accompanied by a smaller bowl of chopped, grilled potatoes. In the larger bowl was a dish that Gregor thought he recognized from Mrs. Cormaci's, called Stir-Fry. When the bowl came to him after being passed around the table, starting with his father, Gregor helped himself to some. It was less than what he would have liked to eat, but he wanted his parents and sisters to be able to enjoy it too. He spread the mixture around on his plate with a fork so that it would cool off faster, and observed the contents. He recognized the squash, zucchini, red peppers, onions, and mushrooms that had been taking up space in their fridge for the last few days, as well as brown rice and some spices that he couldn't name. The whole thing also appeared to be soaked in some sort of brown juice that smelled nice.

"It's soy sauce," Grace explained, watching Gregor's curious expression. "It makes everything sort of blend together."

Gregor sniffed at a spoon of the Stir-Fry before tasting it. To his surprise, he found it incredibly delicious. His mother was right – the soy sauce definitely made everything whole and yummy. Glancing at his father and Lizzie, he noticed that they too were eating happily, wearing faces of enjoyment. The only one who hadn't so much as touched her portion was Boots. She refused to even look at the tiny serving on her plate, and sat with her arms crossed, head turned away and eyes closed.

"Come on, Boots, just try it," Grace begged, waving a spoon of the Stir-Fry in front Boots's stubbornly closed mouth.

"Nhm-hmh," was all that escaped her lips. She opened her eyes a tad, and once she was sure that Grace wouldn't shove the spoon into her mouth, she spoke. "No! There's vegetables in there! Onions and mushrooms and squash – EW! No, I'm not eating it!"

"Boots, it tastes absolutely incredible," Gregor's father tried. "Like candy, only better."

"No, it doesn't!" Boots said, shaking her head madly like a wet puppy.

It was Gregor's turn. "Well, I guess we don't have a choice. Should we tell her, Mom?" Grace inclined her head to the side, confused, and Gregor winked, asking her to play along.

"Hmm…I don't know. Maybe we shouldn't." Her voice was perfectly convincing and got Boots's attention.

"Tell me what?"

"No, no, you're right. We probably _shouldn't_ tell her," Gregor said, making his own voice sound irresistibly mysterious.

"Tell me _what_?"

Gregor smiled under his breath. They had Boots's attention and curiosity now. "Well, this is kind of a secret. Can you keep secrets, Boots?"

"Yes, I can! Tell me, Gregor!"

"This food actually came from the Underland."

All movement ceased in the room. His parents stared at him with shock and bewilderment. Lizzie, too, was confused. But Boots's eyes lit up like little torches as she gasped.

"Really?"

Gregor nodded, feeling a little smug. "Yeah. They sent it up for us, with a note that said this is one of their finest delicacies. They call it Stir-Fry."

Boots was in awe. "Wow! Then it _must_ be good!" Without another word, she shoved the spoon into her mouth and chewed. "Holy cow, this _is_ good!" She reached across the table for more. "Yum!"

The rest of the dinner was rather quiet. Gregor's parents talked about one thing and another, while Lizzie joked about Boots's messy face. Gregor didn't talk at all. They have been eating together like this for the last few years – all part of Grace's plan to keep everyone together and "sane". To a stranger, they all looked like a big, happy family. But appearances were deceiving. Gregor knew that although he smiled on the outside, he felt pain and agony on the inside. He hated lying and deceiving to the parents who gave him life and the sisters who were always there for him. He hated being only partially present in their world and partially present in another. The heart and soul weren't meant to be tugged at like this.

Gregor found it irritatingly hard to eat with just his left hand, and wished that he'd paid more attention to what he was doing when he was peeling those damn potatoes.

In the end, everyone had eaten their share, and the entire Stir-Fry was gone. Grace looked a little happier after dinner, as most people did. Though Gregor, if anything, was feeling more and more dreary.

"Alright, Grace. I'll take Boots tonight and you can take Liz. Gregor, you know what to do, right?" His father left before Gregor got a chance to nod or agree, leading his sisters upstairs. It was time for them to sleep. Despite their differences in personality, they were both incredibly difficult to settle down for the night. Boots, because of her endless energy and desire to move around and play, often took as much as an hour with Grace before she dozed off. And Lizzie had some sort of sleep disorder, so although she was tired, her body didn't let her fall asleep. She didn't really require anything but their parents insisted on having at least one of them there with her until she did, out of comfort's sake.

Gregor did in fact know what to do. It was all part of a scheduled routine that he knew as well as the back of his hand. First, he cleared up the table, placing the cold things in the refrigerator and the dishes in the sink. It seemed that by using only his left hand to eat, Gregor dropped a few pieces of vegetable on the floor, and now kneeled down to pick them up. Having a dog or a cat would be really convenient for times like these, Gregor thought to himself as he tossed the filthy pieces in the trash. He sprayed some cleaning solution on the table and wiped it with a paper towel. Then he shook the placemats off in the sink, before re-setting them in their respective places.

The dishes were next. Gregor's hands always felt like prunes after he was done with washing five sets of plates, glasses, and silverware, as well as all the rest. Doing it with just one hand was going to be extremely fun. Not.

Somehow – he didn't know how – but somehow he managed. It definitely took much longer than usual, but eventually he worked his way to the final spoon. When he was done, his good hand no longer looked like his, but more like his grandma's.

Thinking of his grandma made any and all of his happiness drain away. She was living full-time in the hospital now, and only Grace was allowed to visit her. Which she did, daily, after work. The doctors said that after ninety years of age, something has got to go. And in this case, they were fearing that it was his grandma. Her heart was slowing, and she couldn't mentally think straight. Grace told them that she and Gregor's grandmother hadn't spoken for about a year now during their visits. They just looked at each other and prayed for more time.

Something hot and unpleasant fell down Gregor's cheek, and he realized that it came from his eye. It felt like his grandma had always been there with them, since the beginning of time. How could everything have changed all of a sudden, just like that? Wiping the tear away, Gregor felt his heart ache. He didn't want to lose his grandma. She meant so much to him after all this time.

He gathered himself up and splashed some cold water on his face. Cold water seemed to be his best medicine lately, as he did feel better afterwards. There were just two things left to do, now. Gregor cleaned and wiped off the kitchen counters and took out the garbage to the large dumpster outside of the apartment. It was already overdue for a dump, but whoever was in charge of the thing clearly couldn't care less about the stench it was creating. Trying not to inhale the fumes, Gregor took the stairs back up to his floor and let himself in with his key, locking the door behind him for the night.

From the sound of it, Boots was still awake, so after Gregor turned off all the lights, he proceeded up to his room, kicking the door closed behind him. Now, it was just a matter of time.

He pulled off his blue jeans, navy blue sweatshirt and plain white tee shirt, and threw on a pair of pajamas. They were only for appearances, of course. When the time came, he would need to undress again.

The minutes ticked by, and Gregor occupied himself in bed by reading the book he was currently on, called _Misery_ by Stephen King. He had only recently gotten into reading Stephen King, and found that despite his previous judgments about the man's novels, he actually liked them a lot.

He was at an intense part. The mental Annie Wilkes had just brutally chopped off poor Paul Sheldon's foot off and then set the bloody stump on fire in order to cauterize it. Gregor could picture Annie now, standing in front of him. He could hear her derisive, maniacal laughter. He could feel Paul's writhing and screaming pain in his hand, which suddenly began to throb with agony.

Someone knocked at his door, and Gregor set _Misery_ down on his bed to see who it was. Prying the door open, he found his parents.

"Came to say goodnight, Gregor," his dad said, smiling, and gave him a hug.

"Goodnight Dad." His father clapped him on the back once and retreated, leaving Gregor and his mother alone.

Gregor did not expect his mother to be quick and sweet like his father, so he wasn't surprised when she entered his room completely and closed the door behind her. "Sit down, Gregor. I need to talk to you." He did so, on his bed, while his mother took a seat on the chair by his desk. "About dinner…"

"I know Mom. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up. I was just out of ideas, and we had to get Boots to eat – you know that. It was just the first thing that came to mind." Gregor was telling the truth, completely and wholly, so he did not understand why he felt like he was deceiving her.

"I understand, Gregor, I do. But darling, you need to move on. To forget. It doesn't matter if you talk about it once a month or once a year. Until you let go completely, you'll be suffering from unhealthy memories."

"Okay, Mom. I will. I promise I will. You know that I don't like it anymore. I _have_ moved on. I'm sorry." Now he _was_ lying, but it felt as easy as breathing. Gregor loathed feeling this. What was he becoming?

"No, Gregor, don't be sorry. But you know that I only want what's best for you, don't you?" Gregor nodded, and Grace sighed. "I know that the last couple of years haven't been the best. I know that you're hurting. And I know you're upset about your grandma. Your father and I have been trying really hard to make things alright for you and your sisters. And we're sorry that we haven't done a very good job."

"What are you talking about, Mom?" Gregor asked, bewildered at his mother's words. "You've done so much for us! Because of you and Dad, we have much better lives now!"

Grace smiled, but still looked melancholy. "I know that material things cannot fill the voids in one's heart. And I'm sorry to have failed you as your mother. I ought to have been able to fill those voids, but I didn't."

"Mom, don't be ridiculous! I don't have any _voids_! I couldn't be happier with the way my life is going right now. At school I have good friends, and then I come home to the greatest family in the world. I don't need anything more than that."

He wanted to kill himself for saying these things. For lying so crudely and plainly to his mother, who had wanted nothing less than the best for him. But then again, how could he openly tell her that she was right?

Grace's eyes grew watery as she smiled. "Do you really mean that, Gregor? Honestly?"

Gregor looked her square in the eyes and nodded. "Yes." Inside, someone kicked his gut very hard and he flinched. His mom didn't notice.

"You can't imagine how happy that makes me feel!" his mother whispered and then embraced him in a tight hug, now openly sobbing. "I love you, Gregor."

"I love you too, Mom."

She stood up, kissed him on the forehead, and headed for the door. "Goodnight Gregor." Her smile was beautiful.

"Goodnight." Gregor stared at the floor until he heard the sound of his door closing.

Afterwards, he didn't know what to think about first, as so many thoughts came pouring through his head, all at the same time. He couldn't believe how immensely guilty he was feeling now. It was a parent's gift – they could always make their kids feel so damn guilty. How was Gregor supposed to do anything now? Especially since those goodnights all felt so much like goodbyes. It was as though Vikus knew that something like this would happen. Why else would he send that note?

Gregor fell face first on his bed and buried his head under a pillow. He knew that his decision was made, and wanted to suffocate himself for it. He couldn't turn his back on the world beneath him. It was too much a part of him now.

He lay in that same position without moving for twenty minutes, his heart heavy with worry and guilt. As soon as he could hear the loud, familiar sound of his father snoring, he stripped off again, pulling on his day clothes. He took barely any possessions with him on his trips anymore. Just a pocket flashlight that clipped to a belt buckle on his jeans, and a pack of gum. After countless nights of sneaking out, Gregor knew which floorboards could keep a secret and which ones would mercilessly scream. He made sure to keep the joints of his door constantly greased so that they wouldn't squeal as he slipped out. There was a tricky spot right next to his sisters' room, where he needed to take an enormous step without hanging on to anything. Holding his breath, Gregor stepped over the area and began down the stairs. Four of the seven steps were safe, but the three that weren't were right next to each other. Gregor slid down on the railing past them, and landed silently on the ground level. This part of the house was completely safe, so he didn't have to keep his eyes peeled for any noise spots. Turning the doorknob slowly, Gregor eased himself through as little of an opening as he could, and shut it behind him. He was out.

Once he took a couple of steps away from the door, he bolted down the apartment stairs, making a beeline for the laundry room. It was courtesy of the apartment manager that it was open 24/7, just in case someone had a late-night laundry emergency.

All was dark and quiet around him, for most people were already sound asleep. Still, Gregor took care to walk by the walls, just in case some prowler was around. Heading straight across the hallway, Gregor was now standing right next to the grate. He'd taken care long ago to unscrew the piece of plywood that Grace had his father bolt over the entrance, and left just one screw there to make it look like it was still attached. Turning the chunk of wood upwards and away, Gregor peered inside. It was pitch black, and he could see nothing. He glanced back just once, and crawled inside, letting the wood fall back into its place. Gregor couldn't see his own hand in front of his face, but he didn't need to.

After making a couple of clicks with his tongue, Gregor edged himself forward and off the edge, plunging into the depths of the darkness, where a flier was already waiting for him.

**You'll notice that this chapter talked a lot about Gregor's daily life at home and not much else. I just thought that I should dedicate one chapter to show how his life has been going above ground. I'm sorry if you found it boring – it will get better, I swear! Please R&R and don't give up on me yet. I have some pretty good ideas for this story, and I hope you'll stick around long enough to see them.**


	4. Chapter 3: Consumed By Dark

**Gregor and the Uncharted Lands**

**An Underland Chronicles Fanfic**

**By Feltbeat**

**Thank you very much for the great reviews! The action begins with chapter 3, and will continue to intensify from here on out. Enjoy.**

**Also, I would like to apologize in advance if I don't get some of the Underland facts correct. Thing is, I don't actually have any of the books, and as I write this, it's been a good three months since I've actually read them, so I'm having to do this from memory. If you see something that isn't correct, kindly let me know of it in a review, and I'll fix it asap. Thank you.**

**Also (#2), school is starting tomorrow, so I don't know how much time I'll be able to dedicate to writing this fanfic. Not to mention that I have to work pretty long hours after school as well. I'll do my best, though.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Underland Chronicles or any of the canon characters. They belong to Suzanne Collins. I do however, own all of the OCs, plot, and creativity. **

Chapter 3

Consumed By Dark

The plunge down wasn't nearly as horrifying as Gregor found it years ago. After years and seemingly endless hours of practice, his echolocation had been trained to absolute perfection, and he used this now to his advantage. Falling down no longer felt like being dropped thousands and thousands of feet into a deep, dark, bottomless pit, where the only thing awaiting him was an ominous, hazardous void. No, the experience was much different now, and much more pleasant. All Gregor had to do was click now and then with his tongue, and he could quite clearly make out his surroundings. The echolocation had improved so much that he was even able to see the bottom of the trench to some extent. However, this was not what his eyes eagerly searched around for in the darkness. Instead, they landed on a shape some hundred feet below him, and tried to direct the fall of his body mass towards it. Gregor knew all too well that this was perfectly pointless, but doing so created an interesting feeling, as adrenaline rushed to his head. The fall was not enough for Gregor to reach terminal velocity, but he was under the impression that he came pretty darn close. He spread his arms and legs out from his body, feeling the air rush upwards. Though he was not entirely without control, Gregor's limbs felt floppy and helpless, stuck in a place between reality and some sort of dream world.

Gregor did not have to fall much farther. He could "see" the shape below him magnify more and more, until at last he could begin to identify the obvious outline of a giant bat. His body was a good ten feet away from the flier, and just as it looked like Gregor might fall right past it and hurl towards the bottom, the shape moved in the blink of an eye, and Gregor found himself to belly-flop atop a soft, furry mass. The flier's fur was thick, and thereby cushioned his landing so that Gregor barely felt a thing. He sat up properly and wrapped his legs around the flier's torso. Although it was customary for creatures in the Underland to have a slightly chilly current of temperature running through their skin, what with minimal exposure to the sun, Gregor could feel that the soft, smooth fur of the flier was even colder than the norm. Smiling, Gregor affectionately ran a hand through the familiar texture of the medium-length fur of the flier, who'd taken off into the darkness by now, flying with balance and poise. "It's good to see you again, Clio."

"Likewise, Gregor. Likewise." The flier's voice was as soft as his fur. Somehow the way he purred the words out matched the cool, dark atmosphere of this part of the Underland perfectly.

Gregor was not at all surprised to hear Clio call him by his name instead of "Overlander" or "Warrior". Gregor had been going down to the Underland every day for four years, and Clio had been his transport to and fro every time. Though at first the flier was hesitant, both he and Gregor warmed up to one another after a relatively short period of time. So much so, in fact, that Clio had started to call Gregor by his name.

"You're cold," Gregor commented, stroking Clio's fur gently. Although the two were not bonded, he and the flier were immensely close with each other – a fact that was no secret from most of the Regalians.

"Mmm, yes." Gregor felt Clio pick up speed and make a smooth turn that would have probably gone by unnoticed, had Gregor not known it was coming. With a click of the tongue, he could see his surroundings passing them by. Of all of the fliers back in Regalia, Clio was undoubtedly one of the fastest. "What has been made of your arm?"

"My - ?" Gregor cut himself off abruptly, momentarily confused as to what Clio was talking about. As if on cue, however, the cut in his arm stung quickly and sharply, reminding Gregor of the day's previous events. "Oh, right. I cut myself while peeling potatoes for dinner. No big deal, though."

Clicking again, Gregor could see one of the corners of Clio's mouth raise slightly, as the flier smirked. "So you felt the need to wrap it around until it was the size of one of my wings?"

Without the ability to help himself, Gregor smiled sheepishly. "My mom…" He let his voice trail off, knowing that Clio would understand. Though the bat continued to amuse himself with the thought, he didn't prolong the subject.

Gregor's sweatshirt was more than enough to protect him from the cold, but occasionally a chill still managed to find its way up his back. He shivered and huddled closer to Clio's back. Though the layers and layers of snow were miles above his head, the Underland did not go through winter unaffected by the change in climate. Conversely, those who lived below the surface had had to deal with occurrences ranging from large drops in the temperature to the actual freeze-over of the Firelands. Though the latter had occurred only once during Gregor's visits, it affected on the whole the entire Underland.

"Do not worry. It will not take us long now to reach Regalia," Clio purred again, and the sound of his warm, husky, mellow voice eased Gregor's worries almost entirely. He did not think back to his family, sound asleep in their beds. He did not think back to the letter from Vikus or the anxious, horrid ideas that came with it. Instead, Gregor allowed himself to rest his head on Clio's slowly warming fur and enjoy the smooth ride.

Times like these were exceptionally pleasant to Gregor. He allowed himself to close his eyes as he lay on Clio's back, feeling the cool air brush his cheeks here and there. He was enjoying the flier's company, and knew that the feeling was mutual. Gregor's relationship with Clio was mostly a silent one, mostly because the latter wasn't very outspoken. They often exchanged a few brief words when Clio came to get Gregor, and then soared down into the lower lands, off to Regalia. The rides were always peaceful, and the silence never awkward. It was almost as though the two were able to communicate with one another through thought alone. When Gregor felt ill at ease, Clio was there to offer words of comfort. When Clio grew weary, Gregor suggested that they take a break from their trip.

It was more than obvious to their friends that Gregor and Clio liked each other very much. Gregor himself was sure that they would have been bonded by now. And they would have been, if it weren't for the fact that Clio had already taken a bond with a human, before he knew Gregor. Taking more than one human bond was not against the law, however, it _was_ against the law to betray one of your bonds – and that was usually the outcome for situations where a flier took multiple bonds. Gregor had already lost his one flier bond, Ares, due to issues with loyalty. He wasn't about to let anything even remotely similar happen to Clio, whom he cared all too much about.

Through a series of many attempts at small talk, some of which were very successful, and through Clio's occasional words himself, Gregor gathered enough to know that his friend was less than pleased with the way his own life was going. Clio said that his human bond was losing interest in him, and that although he felt similarly detached, they were required to stay together, courtesy of the bonding rule. Clio confessed that if it were not for this rule, he and his bond would likely have parted ways long ago. It was also clear that Clio would have much preferred to be bonded to Gregor, who in turn felt the same. And yet, there was nothing they could do.

Clio made another smooth turn – the final one, to Gregor's knowledge. And sure enough, just up ahead, he could see the darkness begin to recede, trailing off around the edges, whilst the center grew brighter and brighter. Of course, it was still covered in shades of gray, as far as Gregor could tell, and only looked bright compared with the surrounding oblivion. But the colors contrasted enough to be noticed, and in doing so, formed an outline over something that couldn't quite be seen, but was clearly grand and splendid. Clio leaned ever so slightly to his right, but the incline of his body was enough to send them heading directly for the patch of light that looked so incredibly out of place next to the dark, which in turn looked like it had swallowed the whole of the world. Gregor gripped Clio's fur tighter and steadied himself, for he knew what was coming. The flier leaned forward, his muzzle pointing down towards the ground, tucked his wings close up to his body, and began to descend downwards at an accelerating speed. The rush of wind that struck Gregor's whole body suddenly was familiar and not unwelcome. Although the first couple of seconds made him feel as though his insides were being fanned out, once he adjusted to the feeling, it was not unlike the falling sensation he'd previously experienced. The speed was greater, however, as Clio was actually flying down instead of letting them fall with the wind. Gregor held on, but without fear, unlike the first hundred times he'd done this. After all of these trips down, Gregor learned not only how to deal with the sudden head rush, but how to enjoy it as well.

He clicked just once, but with it could start to make out shapes of all sorts beneath them. Towers and buildings, houses and the palace. Gregor inhaled against the force of the wind, still captivated by the awesome beauty and splendor of the Underland city christened Regalia.

After another moment of the exciting drop, Clio straightened out his wings, ruffling them lightly, as if stretching them out. It was back to a smooth sail now, as Gregor could begin to see the ground through the darkness without the use of echolocation. Tinted and bricked, the landing strip was small and desolate, lacking the sort of welcoming warmth that most of the others had about them. Inhaling again, this time with much more ease, Gregor felt Clio decelerate even more, until he finally touched ground, softly and silently. As he hopped off and hit the stone path lightly, Gregor waited for his eyes to readjust to the lighter shades and tones. Though there was still nothing bright about his surroundings, Gregor could see different buildings in navy blue, mud brown, asphalt gray, and even a rusty red. Once his eyes came back into focus, Gregor turned back to his friend.

In many ways, Clio was unlike any other flier Gregor had known. He was considerably smaller than his late bond, Ares, but not incredibly tiny either. Average would be the best description for his size. To make up for his slight lack of size, however, Clio was notorious for being the fastest, and most agile of all the fliers, and Gregor did not doubt it.

Although Gregor had been utterly color blind while flying in the dark, echolocation or not, he already knew that Clio had beautiful, sleek fur which was the color of a deep, serious maroon. Shades of the darkest red, mixed with just a touch of brown and the slightest violet made Clio look one of the darkest, more intimidating fliers. His eyes, which were the color of night, were surrounded by the darkest fur anywhere on his body, which certainly made them stand out, prominently and with an aura of maturity and superiority. Appearances could be deceiving, however, as Gregor knew that although the flier rarely spoke and appeared to be quite indifferent, Clio was truly often unsure of himself and worried about the future.

Gregor laid a hand on Clio's shoulder for just a moment and smiled at him, saying words of gratitude and appreciation without making a sound. Similarly, Clio's eyes met his, and the flier looked quite content before giving Gregor a small nod and taking off into the darkness. Gregor was not upset by his friend's departure – Clio needed his rest.

The moment Gregor looked away, however, he knew something was wrong. Though that was silly – of _course_ there would be something wrong. It was why he'd spent such a good portion of his day in a constant state of worry and fear, contemplating all of the horrid possibilities. He was stupid for letting the leisurely ride get the better of him. He needed to be on his guard.

Turning away from Clio and out to the darkness, Gregor's eyes eagerly scanned the nearby surroundings, looking for his usual posse that awaited him nightly upon arrival. At the beginning of his visits, almost all of Regalia came down to greet and welcome the "amazing and wonderful warrior". After months and months of visits, however, it had been reduced to those closest to Gregor – Howard, Hazard, Howard's flier bond Nike, Mareth, Vikus, sometimes Nerissa, and, of course, Luxa. Thinking that last name made Gregor's heart skip a beat, but as his eyes searched for her long, silvery-white hair and pale skin and breathtakingly beautiful purple eyes, they did not find them. Confused, Gregor looked again, just to be sure that his mind wasn't playing some awful trick on him. But as he checked again, going as far as to look behind the nearest corners and call out her name, it became clear – Luxa wasn't there. Not only that – there was _no one_ there. Not one of his friends had come down that night to greet him. Against his better judgment, Gregor felt a sinking feeling of loneliness surround him, though it was quickly replaced by an even stronger feeling of dread. Although Gregor certainly knew his way around Regalia as well as the back of his hand by now, there was something eerie and uncomfortable about being off on his own without a familiar face nearby. Granted, it was quite late, so the majority of the Regalians were likely in their homes, sleeping – as it usually was when Gregor came down.

Another cool breeze crashed with Gregor's face, who was surprised at how wonderfully pleasant it felt. Reaching his hand back, he found that beads of sweat head erupted on the back of his neck, as well as his forehead. The refreshing wind still had the icy feel of winter towards it, but it was more than welcome to linger around if it so pleased.

After making sure once more that no one had come down for him, Gregor shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and began to head down a dark alleyway, taking a well-known route from the landing strip to the palace. Each step he took contrasted strangely with the present quiet. Altogether, the atmosphere was far too peaceful. Gregor had come down past midnight before, and things were never _this_ calm. Something wasn't right.

As Gregor continued forward, not sure what he'd gotten himself into, he suddenly heard a noise from behind him. His body froze entirely as he whipped around on the spot. His eyes narrowed, and he tried to make each and every one of his senses as alert as possible to any oncoming threats.

From the darkness into which Gregor could not see with just his eyes came the noise again. It was quite indescribable – but Gregor's attuned ears knew enough to be able to associate it with a living creature. He tried to ease his breathing and blend in with the surroundings like a chameleon.

And then there was the noise again. It seemed to be coming from the same spot all three times – the sound of something moving, without actually moving. Gregor was dangerously close to raging now – he could feel the familiar sensation waning over him, like a tiredness or fear. His senses closed in on the spot the noise was emitted from, blocking out everything else. There was just Gregor and his target. He took a step forward that was not entirely deliberate and waited, knowing that although he was without a weapon, he would be ready for any sort of attack.

He heard the noise again, but this time noticed a slight movement in the darkness up ahead. It was like a shift of perpetual space – he saw movement but nothing which could have made it. Feeling his heart rate accelerate, Gregor stepped forward once more, determined to see this thing through to the end.

Another movement like before, and then a patch of black hair poked its way out of the dark and into Gregor's plane of sight. It was all Gregor could do to prevent himself from charging – until the figure spoke.

"Gregor? Is that you?" the voice was young and familiar, filled with life and utter innocence.

"Hazard?" Gregor eyed the small, boyish figure, whose face was unnoticeable, covered by the shadow of some structure.

"Oh, for the love of Sandwich, where were you? I went down to where Clio always drops you off at and you weren't there." The figure neared him again, and Gregor waited until it was out of the shadow before sighing in relief. True enough, the young boy stood before him with his Overlander black hair and green eyes and Underlander pale skin. If it weren't for the fact that Gregor had seen him every day for the past four years, Gregor would have thought to be looking at a smaller, happier version of Hazard's father, Hamnet. Hazard had grown considerably, but was still more than a head shorter than Gregor. Looking down at his friend, Gregor was horrified at the thought of whom he was so ready to attack.

"Hey, Hazard," Gregor said, ruffling the kid's hair with his hand, but not unkindly. "Why are you here all by yourself? Did the others ditch you?" Gregor tried to end on a silly, distracting note, though he knew that there was probably absolutely nothing funny about whatever was going on.

And sure enough, Hazard did not look one bit cheered by Gregor's miserable attempt at humor. "No, no. They're – uh… Well, why don't you follow me? They sort of sent me to come and get you, though I think that was just their attempt to get rid of me." Hazard finished with an uneasy, irritated tone to his voice, which Gregor immediately caught.

"Who do you mean when you say 'they'?" Gregor would have bet an arm and a leg that Luxa would _never_ try to get rid of Hazard. He started to once more walk down the alleyway towards the palace, with Hazard jumping back and forth around him, trying to keep up.

"The '_important'_ people," the young boy said, his voice dripping with sarcasm like Gregor had never heard it before. "You know, Luxa and the leaders of the other species. They're in council, but I wasn't allowed to join them. All I know is that it's something big – big and important. I tried to sneak in once they began but Vikus kicked me out and told me to go to bed. I didn't, though. I mean, how could he expect me to just _leave_?" Hazard shook his head incredulously, as if the idea was perpetually lunatic. "Anyways, when he saw that I wasn't going to go quietly, he told me to go and make myself useful, and go meet you, as you ought to be arriving here at any moment." Hazard tripped on a rock but caught hold of his balance before he could fall. "What happened to your hand?"

Gregor, meanwhile, consumed this information like a starving man might attack a freshly-baked pie. Something _big_, something _important_. So far his fears were only being confirmed, which made his stomach tighten. "Nothing. Just cut myself earlier. My mom overreacted."

Hazard nodded in understanding. Grace was not just a name – she was also an explanation.

Although Gregor's mind was burning with questions, the duo walked together in utter silence. Up ahead, a light in a window went out, further dimming the already impossibly dark street. It was not uncommon for it to be so deathly quiet when Gregor came down. What was different, however, was the noticeable aura of sadness that seemed to cover everything within sight. It was a feeling that strangely seemed to fit in well with the surroundings, but one that was less that pleasant. The cold that seemed to have evaporated before now returned, wrapping itself around Gregor entirely, so that he had to pull down the sleeves of his sweatshirt and stuff his hands in his pockets. Hazard, who was dressed in clothes that looked much more modern than the usual attire of Regalians, did not appear to be ill at ease with the climate, but rather it seemed like there was much on his mind.

The castle was just up ahead now – still the gorgeous splendor of a building that Gregor remembered seeing just yesterday, even though it felt like much longer. Nothing had changed, besides perhaps the atmosphere surrounding it. Lifeless, empty – it was both everything and nothing like the image Gregor's mind automatically conjured up. Though, so far, the whole of the Underland looked less perky to him than it was before. However, Gregor admitted to himself, he could have only been feeling this way because Luxa wasn't there with him.

As they approached the small of stone clearing that beheld the grand front doors of the castle, Hazard silently took lead, weaseling around one of the towers and heading for a slighter, less conspicuous entrance. It was customary for Gregor to use this particular entrance during his nightly visits, as it allowed him to skip the formality of passing through the giant rooms and to instead make his way right to a very special chamber he and his friends used to chat inside of.

Hazard withdrew a small bronze key from his pocket and unlocked the door, prying it open no more than was necessary, and going inside, motioning for Gregor to do the same. Inhaling once more the cold, bitter air, Gregor slipped inside after the boy, taking care to close the door behind him.

A rush of warmth enveloped Gregor instantly, which was unlike any other feeling he'd experienced before. Something homely, welcoming, and secure made its way into his heart as Gregor took in the fireplace in the corner of the small, stuffy room he and Hazard were contained in.

He was home.

The fireplace was the only source of light in this room, but they were not planning on staying there. Instead, Gregor allowed Hazard to lead him out through a second door, and followed behind as they walked down a long, empty corridor. Although Gregor already knew this part of the castle exceptionally well, he could see that it made the younger boy glad to be doing something, and so followed behind obediently.

When the turn that Gregor always took came, however, Hazard did not take it, and instead continued on forward. "Where are we going?" he asked, mildly curious and majorly anxious.

"Vikus said he wanted you to be there at the meeting," Hazard replied enviously, then glanced at Gregor with a pleading expression. "You'll tell me what's happening, won't you Gregor? You'll tell me what they're talking about, right?"

Gregor placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. "I will. You have my word, Hazard. I don't think it's fair that you're kept in the dark either."

Hazard's face lit up noticeably, and he broke into a grin. "Thank you." With that, they turned a corner Gregor was not too familiar with, and continued down another hall. At last Hazard stopped by a pair of rusty brown double doors, which looked like the end of their journey. "I should warn you," the boy said quite seriously, "they're not in the best of moods. I asked Luxa why she wasn't coming out to greet you and she just snapped at me."

"Oh?" Gregor had really only heard one word Hazard said – the name of his beloved. He had seen Luxa just the previous night, and yet, having been separated longer than usual, he was missing her terribly.

"Good luck. Try to hear all that they're saying, please," Hazard said, casting a meaningful look in Gregor's direction before turning away and retreating back the way they came.

Gregor wiped his forehead absentmindedly and braced himself for whatever awaited him on the other side. As Luxa's beautiful face swam through his thoughts, he drew back the handle and pushed free the doors. Instantly light poured on upon his face, causing Gregor to yelp in pain and clutch at his eyes, which had been kept in the darkness for such a long time now. Blinded and shocked, Gregor felt someone grab hold of his arm and pull him forward, closing the door.

"Get him to a chair. He needs to relax." The voice sounded so very familiar. Mareth, perhaps? He couldn't be positive, but knew enough that whoever was speaking was a friend, not foe, and henceforth allowed himself to be led to a chair. Slowly but surely, Gregor began to lower his hands, which had previously been clutching at his eyes in a desperate attempt to block out the light. He felt moisture on his fingers and wiped it off on his jeans. The brightness could not go unnoticed as it seeped through Gregor's eyelids and burned into the retinas. He realized how incredibly stupid he probably looked at that moment, but felt quite helpless to do anything about it. His fists clenched together, the veins and tendons protruding from his skin quite easily. Knowing that it was either now or never, Gregor held his breath and opened his eyes.

The second shock of light didn't hurt him nearly as much as the first, but he could still have done quite well without it. Colors swam past his suddenly blurry vision, combining and intertwining with each other, creating quite the surreal image. Gregor shook his head like a wet dog, hoping to force himself back into reality.

It was never quite this bad. Never. And still, he had to deal with it.

It was easier to see things now. Gregor could tell he was seated in one of the many chairs that encircled a rotund table. As more things cleared up, he saw, to his surprise, that sitting in the chairs were a number of individuals, all of whom sat next to or with their own species. Across from himself, Gregor saw the flier Queen Athena and her daughter Nike. Next to them were two crawlers – the queen roach and Gregor's old friend Temp. To the left of them, three nibblers – only one of which Gregor recognized as Heronian, who was part of the code team four years ago. Further over, a hisser and a stinger. This made Gregor do a double-take – not only had he never seen them before, he hadn't so much as seen the two species in the same part of the Underland. Keeping a watchful eye on the two unexpected guests, Gregor looked over to the right and found Queen Wevox of the spinners, along with two companions he couldn't indentify. Next to them, two shiners, neither of which Gregor recognized. To his immediate right, Gregor found three gnawers – Lapblood, Makemince, and an unfamiliar face. To his immediate left were his fellow humans, which formed by far the largest group of a similar race. Gregor scanned the company – Luxa, Mareth, Vikus, Howard, and York – Howard's father.

There was also another human in the room. Gregor found her long, silvery-white hair tied up in a high ponytail that hung down loosely. She wore a common garb among Regalians – a long, black cloak, beneath which were plain dark clothes that could have passed for modern but hinted at older designs. Her eyes were piercingly violet and stood out from her pale, smoke-like skin. She was older than Gregor, but only by a couple of years. Tall and lean, she gracefully sat in the midst of the gnawer group rather than with her own kind. Gregor was well acquainted with the newest addition to Regalia. Her name was Jazmin, and she was Clio's bond. Gregor thought back to when he came down one night, to find that Clio had found the girl all alone in Hades Hall – not the best place for an unprotected human to be in. How she'd gotten there or where she was from – no one knew. Jazmin said that she'd been to the Waterway before, but she didn't say if she originally came from Regalia or the Fount. She definitely looked like an Underlander, but from where precisely was unknown. Though Jazmin was certainly not of royal descent, she was on the council for some time before Luxa turned sixteen years old, thereby embracing her birthright as queen. Though Gregor had yet to see it for himself, it was said that Jazmin was a natural leader, and very charismatic. Unlike the majority of humans, she was one of the few who got along with the gnawers very well, so Gregor assumed that was why she was there.

Including himself, Gregor counted twenty-four creatures, fifteen of which he knew to some extent. Altogether, the scenario presented itself to him as very formal and serious.

As soon as his eyes had completely adjusted to the light, Gregor took to obtaining information from his other senses. His nose inhaled a variety of scents, many unfamiliar, but mostly pleasant. His fingertips brushed against the velvety, soft cushion of his seat. There were traces of the bitter taste from earlier that day lingering in his mouth, which Gregor tried hard to force down his throat.

But it was his ears that provided him with the most nervous of discoveries.

It was quiet. _Too _quiet, especially considering the amount of different creatures seated together in a single room. The very fact that they were _seated_ and _together_ was nothing short of miraculous to Gregor. That wasn't the only odd detail, however. Through the utter silence, Gregor saw that each face, whether it be human, flier, shiner, or some other creature, was highlighted with worrisome concern. _This is really,_ really_, bad,_ Gregor thought to himself. But what could have happened that would cause all of these different beings to tolerate one another's presence so well, and to carry about them an expression of anxious anticipation that seemed so incredibly mutual?

So lost was Gregor in his whirlpool of thoughts that he didn't notice someone approach him and a hand placed on his shoulder. Startled, he moved back all too-fast, shaking the table.

"Welcome you, Gregor, once again," Vikus's soft, crippled voice said. "I am sorry to have to tell you that your visit here tonight will be less than pleasant."

Gregor eyed the elderly man, who had aged considerably throughout the recent times. After having a stroke four years ago, Vikus's right side was completely paralyzed. Gregor thought back to when the old man could barely get out of bed. Vikus was no quitter, however, and gradually learned how to continue to be mobile without the use of the right side of his body. Standing next to Gregor, Vikus was leaning upon a sturdy crutch, which Gregor incidentally remembered having previously seen in the Regalian museum of Overland things. Like Clio, Vikus had gotten so used to Gregor's nightly presence that he too called him by his name. Gregor had to admit that he enjoyed this – it helped him to feel like he was on the same page as everyone else.

"Hey Vikus," Gregor gave him a nod of the head and attempted a smile. "I got your note – what's up with that? What's going on?"

The old man nodded also. "Yes, I am very glad you have received the message. However, I believe that I am not the one you ought to converse about it with. Luxa is over there – I am absolutely positive she will explain everything to you."

Gregor's mind stopped the flow of Vikus's words through his brain as soon as the name was said.

Luxa. _Luxa_. Good God, Gregor had been sitting almost right next to her this whole time, conscious of her presence but without acknowledging it. Not to mention, he'd entirely ignored the rest of his friends, having been sitting in the chair, groping at his eyes like a mindless idiot.

Eager to redeem himself, Gregor eased himself off of the chair, aware that most of the creatures' eyes were on him, and walked towards the nearby chairs. He exchanged friendly hellos with Mareth and Howard, both of whom looked tired and worn, though still glad to see him. He shook hands with Howard's father, York, with whom Gregor had become much more acquainted with over the years. Despite the man's stern appearance, Gregor was surprised to find that York was a really nice guy.

At last he made his way towards the seat containing the one girl Gregor ever loved.

He wasn't sure if Luxa was ignoring him or was simply unaware of his presence, for when he was behind her chair, she kept her back towards him. Smiling nervously, Gregor wrapped his arms around her waist and planted a kiss on her cheek.

"Oh!" He'd obviously caught Luxa off guard, for she jumped slightly in her chair. Gregor took note of her eyes, which were looking – although still stunningly beautiful – quite exhausted. It seemed as though Luxa hadn't gotten a good night of sleep before. "Hello Gregor," she said, smiling, but Gregor could see that it was only halfheartedly. Still ecstatic to see that Luxa was safe and free from harm, Gregor rested his chin on her shoulder, inhaling the wonderful aroma of coconut that came from her soft, silky, silver hair. Luxa, who normally would have had quite the positive reaction to Gregor's affectionate treatment of her, eased away gently.

Slightly let down, Gregor did not pursue the matter and took a seat next to her. "What's going on, Luxa? Vikus told me you would explain. What's happening?"

The young woman sighed, brushing back her hair, which was let down for once, in all of its glory. "Oh, Gregor, I am not even sure what to tell you. Things have been so incredibly hectic down here, I can barely keep up with everything. Seeing you makes me feel more at ease. Thank you so much for coming."

"No problem. I always do, don't I?"

Luxa nodded. "Yes. Yes, you do. And I cannot tell you just how much I appreciate that."

"Luxa, it is I who am grateful, because I get to see your beautiful face every night. I can't think of what more to ask for than that." Gregor smiled again and gently caressed the queen's soft, pale cheek. "But what's happening?"

She sighed again, looking more miserable than Gregor had seen her in a long time. "Awful things, Gregor, awful things. I am not sure I can even speak them now, for I am still hoping this has all been just one horrible nightmare. Saying it out loud would make the terror all the more real…"

Gregor thought he was going to implode at any moment now. The suspense was killing him, the process slow and heinously painful. "Won't you please tell me?"

Luxa shook her head slowly, and a strained expression clouded her brilliant face. Her almond-shaped purple eyes gazed upon Gregor with a sort of magical enchantment to them that he was actually left breathless for a moment. "You will find out soon…I am sorry, but I cannot say it now. Have faith in me when I say that you will not be kept in the dark for much longer…"

Although Gregor was still not wholly satisfied, he did let the subject drop. "You look tired, Luxa."

She nodded. "Yes, I have been incredibly busy today. This…'problem' has brought plenty for all of us to do of course, but it would seem most of the burden falls upon royalty now. I had hoped that this issue could stay within the boundaries of Regalia, but considering it did not originate here, I should not have been surprised to find it to have taken a toll on most of the Underland. I do not quite know how much worse this situation can get. Most of the Underland inhabitants have already been made aware of this, hence this gathering you are now witnessing."

To be honest, most of what Luxa said made no sense to Gregor, though he tried hard to comprehend it. Somehow, however, he knew that once he had all of the information, these pieces would fit into place.

And then, suddenly, he remembered something. Something he couldn't believe he'd so carelessly looked over. Sitting up straight, Gregor scanned the inhabitants of the room once more. Two fliers, two crawlers, three nibblers, one hisser, one stinger, three spinners, three gnawers, and six humans, excluding himself. He eyed them again. And again. A fourth time, just to be sure. But by the time he was done with round five, his suspicions had been fully confirmed.

"What is it, Gregor?" Luxa asked, having noticed his unusual behavior.

"Ripred isn't here…" Gregor couldn't believe it took him this long to realize this.

It wouldn't have been a big deal that Ripred was absent ordinarily, but two factors came into play that had Gregor feeling concerned. First of all, whatever was going on was something big and important – something that had so many different creatures together in a single room, sitting in close proximity to each other. It seemed ludicrous that Ripred, who was also known as "the Peacemaker" to some, would be absent during something like this.

Second – and this bothered Gregor the most – was that Ripred had been gone for the last week Gregor had come down to the Underland. His unofficial mentor left without warning one day, and did not leave Gregor any sort of clue or hint as to why or where.

But to Gregor's immense surprise, Luxa did not look bothered. "Yes, I know. He has been busy these last few days. Sandwich knows what he is up to…"

"Wait, you mean to say he didn't tell you?" Gregor found this to be news. Though the topic of Ripred's extended leave had not been discussed up until now, Gregor had assumed that Luxa was fully aware of whatever the rat was doing. That she was just as clueless as he did not cross his mind.

Luxa shook her head in response to Gregor's question. "But…you're _bonds_!" he exclaimed incredulously.

She nodded. "Yes, we are bonds, though sometimes I wish this was not the case. While it seemed like a good idea at the time, the 'peacemaker' seems to have developed his own agenda and he takes care to follow it thoroughly, regardless of whether or not it interferes with my plans."

Gregor had been totally unprepared to hear something like this, and found himself staring at Luxa with an expression of bewilderment, his eyes bulging out. "I thought…I had no idea that things were like that between the two of you…"

Luxa, however, did not appear to have been upset by the discussion. "No, honestly, I did not think so either. I hoped that perhaps Ripred was simply busy taking care of things back with the gnawers and that was the reason for his odd behavior. But lately I have started thinking that it is likely something else."

Next to them, Vikus gave a polite but pointed cough that was clearly directed at Luxa, who seemed to have taken it as some sort of signal. "Excuse me, Gregor. It is time for us to begin."

And Gregor put aside his thoughts about the mysterious rat for the time being and concentrated on the scenario in front of him.

Luxa stood from her chair, which Gregor noticed protruded out from the table slightly more than the others, likely to give her more of an aura of authority. It worked. All of the creatures' eyes were now on her. Luxa inhaled deeply and looked out onto her audience. Somehow, it seemed like she was looking at everyone at once.

"Welcome you all here tonight. I truly wish that there was no need for us to gather here, or at least, not under such adverse circumstances." Luxa spoke with all of the charisma of a queen, addressing everyone at once with her strong voice. It was less confident and proud than Gregor remembered, but still captured everyone's attention.

"I will not waste precious time with pointless introductions and greetings. You all know who I am – Luxa, Queen of Regalia. And I am going to get right to the point."

Gregor held his breath, feeling like his heart rate could be measured on the Richter scale.

Howard stood up with a folder in his hands, and handed a stack of papers to the spinner beside him.

Luxa continued. "I trust most of you are already aware of the situation, but there is need to name it nonetheless. What is being passed around is a list of gnawers who have been brutally slain in the past week."

Gregor's eyes traveled from the inch-thick stack of paper in the spinner's arms to Luxa, unable to believe what he was hearing.

"Shocking, I know. The list contains a total of three hundred and thirty-eight incident reports over the last five days and nights. Fifty-seven of the three hundred and thirty-eight bodies were identified, and are paired with their respective names." There was a shocked gasp from the audience. Gregor was too stunned to make any sort of noise.

"Three-hundred and thirty-eight gnawers have died in the last five days. This number is shockingly high, as I am sure you can see. Clipped to the papers, you will find pictures taken of some of the corpses. We used one of the cameras from our local museum to take them, but unfortunately we could not get everything." The list was now in Lapblood's paws, who refused to look at it for more than a mere two seconds before passing it on. "As you can see on the photographs, the damage was heavy enough that we were unable to identify an enormous part of the victims. There appear to be no traces of evidence left behind, such as footprints or hair."

Luxa paused before continuing. "Gnawers have been dropping dead like flies, and without a known cause. This situation has already gotten out of control, and we must devise a plan immediately to put a stop to this abomination. I am willing to listen to any ideas from anyone. We cannot allow such atrocity to continue any longer."

Murmurs began to spread across the room, ripping through the previously unbroken silence.

"Abomination indeed…"

"What is happening?"

"Awful. Just awful."

"Something out there is making the gnawers drop dead like crazy…"

"Some_thing_?"

"…must be stopped…"

"…who knows who could be next?"

"_Next?!_"

"Bad, this is, bad."

Gregor turned back to Luxa. "Is this true?" he whispered to her in a low voice, still stunned at what he just heard.

She nodded sadly. "Unfortunately, yes. We did not think much of it when Ripred gave us news of a few gnawer deaths. But sooner than later, a few gnawers turned into a few hundred gnawers. It is as if a plague has struck them…"

"Wait!" Gregor said suddenly, striking upon an idea. "Why _couldn't_ it be a plague? Some sort of warmblood thing again, or maybe a disease that attacks just rats. That could be it, right?"

But Luxa shook her head. "Look at the photos, Gregor. This was not the work of a sickness."

As if on cue, Mareth handed him the stack of papers. Gregor accepted, finding them to be heavier than expected.

_Unknown_

_Unknown_

_Body discovered in the Labyrinth at roughly 9 in the morning_

_Unknown_

_Unknown_

_Body discovered in the Plain of Tartarus at roughly 6 in the afternoon_

_Clawsin_

_Previously housed on outskirts of Regalia, reported missing three days earlier._

_Body discovered near the Waterway at roughly 3 in the morning_

_Unknown_

_Likely came from the Plain of Tartarus_

_Body discovered in the Waterway at roughly 8 in the morning _

The list continued down in a very similar fashion, first stating the name of the gnawer, if it was identified, where the gnawer might have come from, and where and when the body was found. It was quite depressing to look at. Each one of those three-sentence descriptions of a gnawer was now no more than a statistic. A gory, horrifying statistic.

"Turn the page, Gregor," Luxa whispered to him. Obediently, Gregor did so, though instantly regretted the action.

Clipped to the front page were a series of photographs, and had Gregor not known in advance that they showed pictures of dead rats, he would not have recognized the images in them.

Ninety percent of the photos showed nothing more than patches of torn fur, splattered with scarlet, and the occasional eyeball here and there. These were nothing like the dead bodies of gnawers Gregor had seen during battle. These didn't even resemble the road kill lying on every New York street. No, the pictures before him showed brutal mercilessness. The bodies were twisted into impossible shapes and forms, their limbs protruding unnaturally from all the wrong places. Most of the torsos were contorted or snapped entirely in half, and only a few pictures actually showed the faces.

The most noticeable thing, however, were the marks of teeth that had scraped the soft, delicate lining of the skeletal systems. They were the same on all the pictures that they could be seen in. Gregor had seen nothing like this before – except perhaps in movies like Jaws, where the shark's giant bite left visible indents of teeth.

Teeth the size of an army knife.

All in all, Gregor felt his breakfast fighting the force of gravity inside of him.

It had gone silent in the room once more, and Gregor was under the impression that he was not the only one trying to let all of this sink in. Only the trio of gnawers looked impatient, thrumming their claws against the hard of the table.

Luxa, meanwhile, had slid down into the chair beside him, looking particularly distressed. Concerned for her well-being, Gregor took her hand into his and gave it a gentle squeeze. She returned it without enthusiasm.

On his other side, Vikus had re-joined their group. "Do not push her, Gregor. Luxa has been put under immense stress in a short amount of time. This is her first official meeting as queen with the representatives of other species. It is very important how she presents herself to them. They will want to see how Luxa behaves as queen. A test of her ability, if you will. This alone is a lot for Luxa to get through. And now this here situation with the gnawers… Well, you can understand that she has quite a lot of pressure on her shoulders right now." Vikus said all of this in a hushed voice, so that Gregor and Gregor alone could hear it.

"Oh…" Gregor was, in fact, unaware just how much Luxa was having to deal with. He suddenly felt guilty for his behavior. Most likely he had only annoyed her instead of making her feel better.

And then…

"I don't understand," he said aloud, to no one in particular. "Why didn't anyone tell me about this before? When it first started happening?"

Howard was the one who answered. "We could not establish that all of these deaths were somehow connected right away. In fact, this list was composed only this morning. Before, all we had was a whole bunch of gnawer homicides that could have been caused by anything from angry neighbors to a planned siege. Up until now, we could not make a conclusive statement as to what was happening."

Gregor's head began to spin lightly, and he felt woozy. "I still don't understand," he murmured. "How could so much have changed overnight?" No one answered him, and the room lapsed back into a horrible, lonely silence. Gregor wondered if this was all really happening, or if perhaps it was just one of his dreams gone wild?

Minutes passed by, and eventually Gregor had to wonder what everyone was waiting for. Were they taking time to mourn for the losses? Or was everyone just at a total loss as to what to do?

Suddenly, and without warning, the doors to the room burst open. There stood Hazard, looking small and weary, but excited simultaneously. Beside him was a gnawer pup, who, when standing, barely reached past the boy's hip. It was a tiny thing, its fur a dark and ruffled gray. Its eyes darted back and forth around the room curiously, but the whole of his body was trembling with fear.

Everyone stared at them now, and it took Luxa a moment to compose herself and stand. "This is a private meeting, Hazard. What business have you here?" Gregor was surprised to hear a cold note in her voice.

Hazard cleared his throat and looked quite uncomfortable under the gazes of so many creatures. "Uh…S-Sorry to bother you, but…this little guy came to the palace, wanting to speak with Queen Luxa. And, uh, I told him that you were busy right now and couldn't talk. But he said it was urgent – that he had a message for you."

Luxa's eyes lowered until it was on the pup, who, although clearly frightened, met her gaze and held it. "Who are you?" she asked, not unkindly but rather formally. Gregor was all too aware that the looks the other creatures cast at the pup were less than friendly, but could not understand it. The little rat was completely helpless, looking shabby and pathetic next to the grandeur of surroundings.

Bravely, the tiny pup took a step forward, raising his head and addressing not only Luxa but the whole of the room. "I am called Cutcer. I come to tell you of the monster."

**In case you were wondering, Clio is in fact an ancient Greek name, so I know I got that part right, at least.**

**I'm pretty sure that most of the original characters are, well, out of character, and I apologize for that. I'm going to see if I can purchase the books sometime.**

**Review?**


	5. Chapter 4: The Rat's Tale

**Gregor and the Uncharted Lands**

**An Underland Chronicles Fanfic**

**By Feltbeat**

**I wish to thank those of you who reviewed, as well as to apologize for an inexcusable delay. My time is completely overbooked this year. Anyways, I hope to try and redeem myself, if only a little. **

**Also, if you haven't noticed, I changed my username. Alec-Alumina is no more.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Underland Chronicles or any of the canon characters. They belong to Suzanne Collins. I do, however, own all of the OCs, plot, and creativity. **

Chapter 4

The Rat's Tale

All eyes, which had previously been so much occupied with grazing the entirety of the room, were now focused upon the gray, miniscule pup. It was an awkward moment, and even Gregor could feel the weight of the silence press up against him. He heard the low, unsteady breaths of his fellow companions, if he could call them so, and realized with a start that the most unsteady of all was his own. The only one who didn't appear to have been caught in the tension was Hazard. Gregor watched as the younger boy eagerly scanned his surroundings, obviously thrilled to have been let inside the chamber, however temporarily. Another second or so passed, in which Gregor quickly wondered what Luxa and the others were thinking. Then the queen broke the silence.

"Hazard, what is this about?"

Hazard jumped, startled at the sudden breakage of what was almost a peaceful quiet, and turned to face Luxa, who in turn managed to keep her own face calm and free of emotion.

"Um…well, Cutcer here came to the palace, like I said. I was…well, I was waiting outside of the doors, here," Hazard's face reddened, for the boy was clearly embarrassed having revealed his obsessive curiosity, "and I left for a moment to go to the bathroom. As I was returning back, I heard a sound that reminded me of Ripred. You know, rat noises." Gregor did indeed know the noises of which Hazard spoke. The clicking of claws against tile, a sort of scurrying about the room, the occasional _swish_ of a tail swiping its way through air. Once more, as though by reflex, Gregor looked about him in search of his mentor, only to return his gaze to the pup, as disappointed as ever.

"Anyways, I followed the sounds for a while, until they suddenly stopped," Hazard continued. His voice still had the high-pitched innocence of a child, at which Gregor couldn't help but smile. "And then I ran into Cutcer. He was a total mess, and right away insisted that I take him to see Your Highness, saying only that it was an urgent matter of much life and death, and that he had a message for Your Highness." It felt odd, for Gregor, to hear Hazard refer to Luxa as Your Highness. Of course, he knew that to be in front of a group of such important representatives called for such formalities. Still, he couldn't help but feel that something more sinister was behind the seeming hostility with which Luxa regarded the youngster. Could he really have missed so much in such a short while?

"I see." Gregor watched as Luxa pondered the information, taking in every expression on her face. After a minute or two of silent deliberation, she finally turned her attention to the small pup. "You say you have a message for me?"

It wasn't without fear, Gregor noticed, that Cutcer took a few well-measured steps forward, for his body visibly trembled and his breathing audibly accelerated. He withdrew a paw from behind his dirty, rugged back, and reached forward a scroll. Seemingly feeling the pressure of everyone's attention on him, Cutcer hesitated for the longest of moments before approaching Luxa closer yet. Gregor watched as Mareth and Howard moved forward toward them in a move that would have been impossible to spot by the ragerless eye. Though they were not Luxa's guards, Gregor knew that their devotion and loyalty to Her Highness were boundless.

"At ease," Luxa said with a much more gentle tone, and waited until the path leading Cutcer to her was clear again. Seizing the opportunity, she strode forward until a mere foot separated woman and rat. Time seemed to stand still as she kneeled down before the pup, making them at equal eye level and slowly but inevitably reached out her own hand. As though in slow motion, Cutcer placed the scroll on her hand, as Luxa simultaneously took hold of it. The entire process looked far too long to Gregor, who felt the need for such dramatics was wholly unnecessary. As the queen opened the scroll in a prolonged manner, Gregor strained to look over her shoulder, without success. Irritated and eager, he inhaled deeply a few times and waited for Luxa to finish reading.

It didn't take long. Four seconds later she passed the scroll to him, letting her hand linger on his for another moment or so. Her skin was pleasantly warm, Gregor noticed, and so gently caressed it with his own hand, knowing that this was as much as he could portray his affection for her given the circumstances. The feeling of warmth that had suddenly spread throughout his entire body was short lived, and so he breathed deeply once more, before turning his full attention to the crusty bit of paper before him.

_Listen to what the pup says. He speaks the truth. Let no one interfere with his presentation. It is of the __greatest__ utmost importance that he tells you all he knows. ~R _

Gregor already who the message was from, but even if he hadn't been previously enlightened, he still would have recognized the unmistakable way the "R" twisted around itself, in a way that was unique to its maker.

It was a brief, emotionless message, Gregor pondered silently and quickly. It was very much like Ripred to send such a notice, and yet, there was something off about the way it sounded. Unable to quite place his finger on it, Gregor met Luxa's gaze and gave a curt nod. He searched her face for emotions, wondering if she too could feel the wrongness of the message's tone, but found nothing. Of course, that didn't mean she was oblivious to it. In the past few years, Gregor had noticed that as Luxa became more accustomed to masking her emotions, she became better at it as well.

A brief cacophony pulled Gregor off of his train of thought, atop which he so often tended to get these days and nights. Looking around, he saw that Howard strode now towards the double doors and opened them, allowing in what could only be described as a ray of darkness from the outside.

"I thank you for your kindly services, Hazard," Luxa spoke in a distant voice. Gregor got the feeling that she was on the opposite side of the room from him, though, of course, she in fact was no more than a few inches to his right. "However, due to the nature of this meeting, I am now asking you to leave."

Gregor watched as the boy's eyes widened even more, if that was possible, and as tears began to well inside those pools of green. "What?"

"Howard, please escort our young Halflander outside these walls." Gregor did not miss that although Luxa was addressing Howard, her gaze never drifted away from Hazard. As her older cousin approached the boy, Gregor saw about him a sort of sadness that seemed only vaguely familiar. He struggled to remember where and when he had seen this same expression on Howard's face before, as both men exited the chamber. Hazard's feet more or less dragged on the floor in reluctance, but Gregor was thankful that he refrained from making any more outbursts. Much as he felt bad for the boy he now was as close with as with his own sisters, Gregor's knowledge of the importance of this meeting to Luxa as a queen had towered above all. Not to mention, after seeing the gory photographs of gnawer remains, Gregor was absolutely positive that he did not want Hazard hanging around here.

As soon as the doors closed again – and this time, Gregor heard the sound of a lock clicking into place – Luxa once more broke an eerily mutual silence. He wished that he'd brought with him a video camera, just in case years from now he would tell such a tale and be deemed with laughter.

"How did you find Ripred? Or did he seek you out?" Gregor's attention was abruptly grounded as Luxa's attention was once more on Cutcer, who had been momentarily forgotten until now. The pup, in turn, took a few cautious steps forward, looking Luxa square in the eyes.

"I was hid. I was hid and he found me. Well, he was sort of looking for me, and I was too weak to do anything. If I had been strong, I would have looked for him." Cutcer annunciated and spoke with a surprisingly strong voice. Gregor could tell that he was not the only one impressed, as a low mumble spread through the audience. For a pup so young, Cutcer was speaking with exceptional clarity and coherency. Gregor had heard some month-old pups attempt to converse with humans before, and their vocabulary consisted of barely more than wails of "Momma!" and pleas for milk or otherwise nourishment.

"I do not understand," Luxa said slowly, her voice softening and her features more pensive. "Do you mean to say that Ripred found you while you were hiding, though you had meant to go to him anyways?"

Cutcer looked at Luxa in a way that may have suggested she was mad. "Yes. That is what I said."

She nodded once. "All right. I only meant to confirm what you first told me." Her ability to remain cool, calm, and collected in stressful situations never ceased to amaze Gregor. At that moment, the doors opened once more, as Howard re-entered the room, taking his seat silently. With no more than a brief glance at him, Luxa continued. "Please tell us where and why you were hiding."

Although Gregor was sure that no one else noticed, he saw as Cutcer rose to the tips of his hind paws, likely to feel a bit more at ease. "Momma had took me from our nest one day. Said we had to get outta there. I not know why then, but she looked scared. Very scared. I never remember seeing her so scared." Another layer of hush fell upon the room. Though the pup's language was still quite imperfect, he had captured the attention of the entire audience with no more than the first few words. He looked to Luxa for a second, who nodded in an encouragement for him to go on.

"She took me to the forest, a place she said but I do not remember. The time we ran, I heard loud noises behind us. It seemed like we were running from them, and everything was loud for a moment. When we were arrived there then, she put me in a new place, it was hard to move there. She put something on me, and it smelled awful. I could not breathe for a bit. Then she put me in the place, and told me to stay. So I stayed. And then…." Cutcer's voice ran short for a moment, as he searched around the room, as though pleading that someone would tell him that he needn't go on. But no one said a word, and even the silence seemed quiet for once. "…then it…dimmed her light." For the first time since Gregor met him, he noticed large, fat tears sliding down on the slight rubble of whisker on the pup's face. Seeing this display of raw emotion, Gregor had to fight hard to keep his eyes from watering as well.

"I see…" Luxa said in a voice that was barely more than a whisper, and Gregor didn't need to see her face to know that she, too, was struggling to refrain from showing too much emotion. It was quiet again, and once more Gregor couldn't help but feel like each moment spent in silence was a moment dearly wasted.

The next voice to speak was sudden and abrupt. "What was her name?" All heads turned to the source of the question, and Gregor was surprised to see that it had come from the gnawer Makemince. When no one answered her, she asked again, in a tone that more than met the cold, harsh gaze with which she regarded Cutcer, "Well, are you deaf, pup? I asked, 'What was her name?'"

Cutcer seemed to shrink under the hostile glare, and Gregor wanted suddenly more than anything to jump out of his seat and act as a barrier between the futile pup and whatever harm might come his way. "M-My momma's name?"

"Not the brightest of your litter, are you?" Makemince spat harshly. "_Of course_ your damned mother's name!"

"Order!" Luxa called, who, like Gregor, seemed outraged at the older gnawer's behavior. "I will not tolerate that sort of treatment towards Cutcer. He has done you no harm, Makemince. I ask that you treat him with tolerance and respect, or else I will be forced to ask you to leave."

"Tolerance and respect my furry behind!" Makemince stood on her hind paws, more than doubling her normal height, as both Howard and Mareth simultaneously moved to block Luxa out of her view. "_What was her name, pup?_"

Gregor couldn't tell for certain, but it certainly felt as though the tension in the room had suddenly began to be too much for such a diverse group of beings to handle. Even he himself started to feel more irksome and annoyed by the minute. Taking deep breaths in hopes of remaining calm, he watched the unfolding scene with a cautious eye, readying himself to rush to Luxa's defense should anything unfortunate happen.

Gregor didn't appear to have been mistaken in his assumption, however, for in the seconds that followed, every creature in the room somehow seemed grander, their proportions enhanced, as though each was trying his or her best to look intimidating. Suspicious gazes were tossed back and forth between then, until Gregor began to feel seriously concerned. If a fight broke out here, now, who knows what would happen?

"Leatherface."

In a moment that would have been comical had the circumstances not been so obscure, every head once more turned to Cutcer, who seemed to have regained some of his composure. "Her name was Leatherface," he squawked again, and suddenly found something very interesting on his paw, deterring his gaze away from anyone and anything else.

All three adult gnawers inhaled sharply, and Gregor could tell that this knowledge was of great importance to them. Makemince hissed audibly, and yet when she spoke, Gregor could tell that she wasn't talking only to the pup. "I knew it. I knew there was something about you that had to do with her. You look too much like her, you do. Why, if it were not for so many witnesses, I would dim your light right here and right now, you damned, ungrateful – " But her list of what would probably have been very many obscenities was quite suddenly cut short, as the gnawer whose name Gregor did not know placed a paw on her shoulder.

"Save it, dear," he said in a low, raspy voice. For a moment Gregor wondered if he was Makemince's mate, but then realized how little difference that made one way or the other. "Save it." Gregor's eyes narrowed as he heard these words. He didn't want to think about the different possible meanings that these words could have had, but found it hard to avoid thinking about them nonetheless.

"What do you have against the mother of the pup, gnawers?" Mareth spoke for the first time in a while.

But Makemince looked aggravated beyond words. Her tail angrily snapped up and down on the ground, while her bared teeth glistened pointedly at Cutcer, who in turn did not appear ignorant of these motions.

"Look her up," Lapblood said, remaining the calmest of the small gnawer group. Perhaps it was because she alone had had such close interactions with the Underland humans in the past, or for other, inexplicable reasons, but she looked kindly upon the rest of them, seeming to take absolutely no notice of Makemince's furious expression. "Look her up in the list of the deceased. I am sure that will serve as adequate explanation.

Luxa hesitated, but after an encouraging nod from Gregor, took the thick stack of paper from Howard's outstretched hand, and began sorting through it. It didn't take longer than a minute for her to withdraw a single piece of paper, her eyes scanning it quickly and quietly. As soon as she was done, she methodically handed it to Gregor, a look of comprehension dawning on her face. Gregor took the paper, searched until he found the name he was looking for, and proceeded to read.

_Leatherface_

_Banished from the Gnawer Lair in the Plain of Tartarus, left an estimated twenty pups or so alone in the Firelands (pups have been confirmed as diseased). Is banned from setting paw on any gnawer territory. Reported missing along with pup Cutcer 13 weeks before the start of the gnawer slayings. _

_Body discovered in the outskirts of the Plain of Tartarus at roughly 3 in the morning. The Peacemaker has confirmed Cutcer's survival. _

That was all that had been written about Cutcer's mother, but it was enough for Gregor to understand. Stuck with disbelief, he snuck a glance at the pup, and wondered if he had any idea what his mother had done. No, Gregor thought to himself, he couldn't know. The pup didn't look much older than a few months. On his left side, York nudged Gregor in the shoulder, looking expectantly at him, then pointedly at the sheet of paper. Still caught in a state of awe, Gregor numbly handed it to him, then turned back to Luxa, whose reaction was similar to that of his own.

"What do we do?" she whispered to him, her voice urgent and full of uncertainty. Gregor, on the other hand, had even less of a clue than she did. He suddenly felt like a child, stuck in the middle of an adult situation. Reflexively, the two of them looked at Vikus, who'd just finished reading the report on Leatherface. The older man stood and limped his way over to stand by Luxa.

"That which we have read is unfortunate, however, the gnawer in question is no longer alive. I strongly recommend that we all put aside any previous prejudices and harsh feelings so that we can sort out the situation at hand." Gregor didn't miss that Vikus spoke only to the gnawers. "Allow us not to forget that it is because of Leatherface that Cutcer is here with us now. She gave her life to save his, so let us leave it at that." Though it was clear that Makemince was not going to leave it at that at all, she kept quiet, and allowed for the humans to continue.

Giving a grateful nod in Vikus's direction, Luxa escorted him back to his seat, then took back her rightful place in the center, and addressed the pup once again. "Cutcer…I am going to have to ask you to please tell us as much as you possibly can about the creature that dimmed your mother's light. I understand that this may be of difficulty for you, but if I must do no less than beg of you to help us, then such I must and such I shall."

A look of utter confusion crossed Cutcer's face at first, replaced by one of determination, concentration, and slight remorse. "Momma was very brave. She did not seem scared at all, but I was very. She tried to fight – I know she did, but the-the thing was too big. She went quiet very fast." He looked around the room, and for the first time since they'd been in each other's proximity, Cutcer's eyes met that of Gregor's. Gregor took note of their large, round shape, dyed with a milky blue hue that clashed with his raggedy brown fur. The connection was short-lived, however, as the pup turned back to Luxa, and continued with his tale.

"It was _big,_" Cutcer said, and as he did, his eyes almost doubled their own size. "Very, very big. I cannot say quite how big, but bigger than him," he reached out a paw and pointed directly at the hisser across the room from him. The hisser appeared to look slightly abashed, as far as Gregor could interpret its facial expressions, but did not move or make a sound. Indeed, Cutcer's comparison had been quite meaningful. The hisser was enormous in size, almost twice the size of the only other one he'd ever met, Frill, who'd belonged to Hazard's father. To picture a creature larger than that was almost incomprehensible.

Clearly pleased with the reaction he got, Cutcer went on. "I did not see much, but I will tell you what I did see. The thing had fur, a lot of fur. It was gray, I think, I cannot recall. Maybe a little white, too. Its eyes were black – very black. Blacker than night, I tell you. It had ears on its head, stood on four legs. The noise it made – it was bad! The baddest noise I have heard yet. Loud and bad, and very scary!" Cutcer shuddered visibly. "And its teeth! Oh, the teeth it had were so very long, and sharp! I saw as it dimmed the light of momma, and how easy it looked…very bad…"

"Big, bad, loud – oh, yes, that is incredibly descriptive!" Makemince complained audibly, her voice dripping with sarcasm. Everyone ignored her, however, and so she went back to sulking in silence.

"The teeth were the worst," Cutcer now whispered, whilst the majority of those in the room hung on to his every word, seeming to almost breathe in unison. "Very big, very big, I can say almost as big as me." His final words received mixed responses from the crowd. A few snickered, thinking that surely the pup must be exaggerating. Others gasped in absolute horror. Gregor felt goose bumps creep up his arms and a chill down his back. For some reason that he just couldn't place for some reason, that which Cutcer said sounded eerily familiar, as though he had heard this description before. Frowning, he concentrated hard on trying to remember what it was – unsuccessfully. "It had a tail – a medium tail. And its fur was short – about like mine." Cutcer patted himself down, drawing emphasis to the fact that the fur was, in fact, short. "I cannot recall more. I just know – and momma told me – that it was a very, _very_ bad thing." Cutcer looked at Luxa as he said this, and even stomped his paw on the ground, his tiny face more serious than Gregor had ever seen it.

A surreal stillness followed the dramatic finale to the pup's recollection of memories, during which, somehow, Gregor's hand managed to weave itself around Luxa's, squeezing it gently, and receiving a similar response. They did not look at each other, but that simple gesture of physical contact was enough for the moment.

At last, Luxa cleared her throat and nodded appreciatively to Cutcer. "I hope that you can accept our most profound gratitude for your help, young Cutcer. It is my recommendation as queen of Regalia, and an invitation as a token of my thanks, that you stay here with us, and make yourself at home." An ugly scoff came from the direction of the gnawers.

"Sure, host the pup of the murderer! That will definitely put you in our good books!" Makemince almost shouted, but refrained from actually doing so.

"He has been of immense help to us, Makemince!" Luxa said hotly, staring her down. "I would think that _you_, of all of us, would be appreciative of his knowledge, for _your_ mate was killed by that very same creature, unless I am very much mistaken!"

That seemed to have been the last straw for Makemince, who rose from her spot once again, her eyes narrowed and nostrils flared. "Come, Reeklet," she said in a relatively calm voice, but one which shook with anger. The gnawer who Gregor had not met before rose from his chair as well, and the two made their way towards the exit. "I would keep an eye on my back if I were you, Your _Highness_. Your Peacemaker has not been so keen on making peace lately, from what I hear," Makemince jaunted satanically. "Just a friendly word of advice," she added, in a tone that frankly sounded anything but friendly. The last thing Gregor saw was the slight of two thin tails disappearing behind door, which slammed shut afterwards. Following their uncanny departure, it was only Lapblood and Jazmin sitting at the gnawer end of the table, both of whom looked wholly unsurprised by the way things turned out.

"Maybe I should go..." Cutcer said quietly, looking down at his feet and bearing a shameful look about him.

"Yes, that may be for the best," Luxa agreed quickly. "As I have said, however, you would do me a great honor by staying here with us in Regalia. We can, and shall, care for you and make sure you are well tended to."

"Thank you, Queen Luxa," the pup bowed down, before allowing Howard to gently lead him away. Only then did Gregor notice just how tired and worn Cutcer looked. If anyone deserved a long, relaxing sleep, it was definitely him. Thinking of sleep made Gregor's eyelids feel droopy for the first time that night. He glanced at his watch – exactly one in the morning. He'd stayed in the Underland for longer that this in the past, but never had he had to endure so much change in such a short period of time.

With the absence of Cutcer, and the only two hostile creatures, Gregor felt some of the tension in the room lift, but only a little. His hand was still clutching Luxa's, and her his.

"Wow…" he said, as she sat down beside him, also looking worn and exhausted. In the midst of feeling sorry for Cutcer and himself, Gregor had forgotten that everyone in the room was probably tired as well, having given up hours of sleep to be there in the first place. And Luxa – poor Luxa was responsible for making sure that the meeting went smoothly, that she present herself and Regalia with dignity and a stoic presence, and to lead the way through the conflicts.

"Yeah," she said, letting go of his hand and rubbing her temples on either side of her head. "'Wow' just about sums it up."

Gregor nodded, and then proceeded to share something with Luxa that he'd been meaning to say for a while now. "I've got a funny feeling…"

"There is food coming shortly, I have asked them to whip up some nourishment for us. It looks like it is going to be a long night."

"No, not that kind of funny feeling," Gregor said quickly. "It's just…I feel like I've heard of that creature before. You know, the one that Cutcer was describing?"

If anything so far had captured Luxa's whole and undivided attention before, it was nothing like this. She turned around to face him completely, and let her deep, beautiful purple eyes make contact with those of Gregor's. "Oh, Gregor, you know what it is? You must tell me, then, now!"

"Well, I feel like I know it, but it's just not coming to me," Gregor admitted, then suddenly wished that he hadn't, upon seeing the crestfallen look on Luxa's face. "No, no, don't worry! I'll remember it, I will! Just…just give me a moment!" He scrunched up his eyes in fixated concentration and tried to think, whilst also fighting off the incredible sensation of sleep that he felt once everything went dark. What was it that Cutcer said, again? The creature had a lot of short, gray and white fur. It's eyes were blacker than night, it had ears on its head, a medium-sized tail, and stood on four legs. It made a terrible noise, and had enormous, sharp teeth.

"Well, _damn_, Luxa, if I didn't know any better, I'd say that it was some kind of dog," Gregor said aloud without thinking much about what he was doing.

Luxa, who was already pale as it was, blanched even more so. She slowly turned her head to face him, and in a voice that masked the wonder behind it asked very simply, "What?"


	6. Chapter 5: Sinking In

**Gregor and the Uncharted Lands**

**An Underland Chronicles Fanfic**

**By Feltbeat**

**Author's Note: Thank you for the reviews. Alas, we keep on going…**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Underland Chronicles or any of the canon characters. They belong to Suzanne Collins. I do, however, own all of the OCs, plot, and creativity. **

Chapter 5

Sinking In

He hadn't realized it, but the whole of the room's attention had been fixated upon him, not just Luxa's. Gregor felt the blood in his body rush to his face in one instant, and even swayed in his chair momentarily before catching hold of himself. He had not bargained for this sudden change in atmosphere – a quizzical look had taken hold of every being in the room, and Gregor now felt uncomfortably obligated to explain. Scratching his head, he pretended to find a chip in the wooden table exceptionally interesting, so to avoid making eye contact with anyone. He didn't know why, but for a seemingly unexplainable reason, he felt guilty, as though he'd just said something crudely offensive.

Some of his tension lifted, however, as Luxa placed a cool, soft hand upon his, taking care to wrap her fingers around his and give them a gentle squeeze. Gregor halfheartedly returned the gesture, but he knew that nothing less than chaos awaited him in the near future. Mentally he'd already regretted saying anything at all, as a shadowy foreboding told him he was in for quite the hellish ride.

"What, Gregor? A what?" A voice that had escaped Gregor's memory for the time being pierced the silence, and he felt an elusive hatred towards whomever it belonged to. It wasn't until he dared look at the source that Gregor felt a twinge of remorse inside of his gut for thinking such thoughts. Mareth had spoken, leaning against a crutch that looked far too feeble to sustain the man's massive build. He breathed deeply and tried to let go of all feeling – all feeling except that upon his hand. He channeled all of his emotions towards Luxa, towards their jointed hands, towards the deep affection he felt for her. Once he felt sure that he could talk without feeling overly consumed by tension, he let the words escape his mouth.

"A dog, I think. I know that I'm probably mistaken, but it sounds, from the way it was described, like a dog." Saying these things brought back that bitter taste in his mouth – that same taste he'd experienced what felt like weeks, but was actually mere hours, ago. It tasted like corrosive acid, burning slow, painful holes into the flesh of his mouth. His tongue, his teeth, his gums, the roof of his mouth – they were all covered in that putrid taste. Gregor tried hard to swallow it all back, to shove it down his throat, but ended up only gagging on fluid that might as well have been liquid fire. As Luxa and Howard moved towards him with worrisome features on their faces, Gregor rose up a hand to halt them, and clenched shut his eyes, counting by the second until he finally felt the taste subside. Like a tidal wave, it began to ebb away, though not without leaving unpleasant traces behind. He opened his eyes then, having not a retina for anyone but Luxa, whose face revealed concern beneath the stony shock.

"I heard you the first time, Gregor," she said, not unkindly, after Gregor gave her a small smile to show that he was all right. "But I am afraid I will need for you to explain to me – to us – what this 'dog' is. From the way you regard the word, I take it you are very familiar with such a being?" Though Gregor was sure it was invisible to anyone but himself, he heard a very faint trace of fear in the queen's seemingly firm, collected voice.

"A dog?" someone had the audacity to say. Gregor looked to see York, Howard's father, stand up and cast Gregor a look that said many hostile things. Recoiling from this sort of unexpected treatment, he could only nod in the direction of the head of the Fount.

"What is it?" called one of the nibblers whom Gregor did not know.

"Dangerous, it is?" the queen crawler pondered aloud, which received frustrated responses from many of the others.

"Of course it is dangerous, it has killed hundreds of gnawers!" said an unfamiliar shiner, its back end lighting on and off very quickly in anger.

"Thissss cannnn nottttt beee goooooodddd…." the lone hisser murmured quietly, and though hearing it speak served as of immense interest to Gregor, no one else appeared fascinated by it.

"If there is only one of this creature, I am sure we would be able to destroy it," Queen Athena of the fliers strategized thoughtfully.

"Well, maybe it is only interested in killing gnawers," the other shiner said disdainfully, its face raised up into the air with pride.

"What difference does it make if that is true?" Howard called, his brows furrowing deeper.

"Yes, let it destroy the gnawers! If it does not harm us, why should we get involved?" one of the spinners shouted – as much as a spinner was able to shout, anyway.

Something inside of Gregor's chest bent at these words. He could almost feel himself inflating with hot air, ready to explode at the lightest of provocations. But just as he readied himself to attack the spinner's words in every way imaginable, another figure rose from its chair – one that clearly carried to it more stature than so far had all the rest.

"That is despicable." The voice was soft, and barely more than a whisper, but it echoed throughout the chamber with a certain buoyancy about it. Silence commenced once again, as the Underlander Jazmin tossed back her silver hair, her violet eyes boring into those of the outspoken spinner. "You would allow an entire species of the Underland to be brutishly slayed, so long as you are safe from harm? You would allow the blood of hundreds of innocent gnawers to be spilled at the hands of a monster, so long as you catch a moth in your web now and again? You would rather see the carcasses of pups in photographs than take a stand and fight for what you know is right? If that is true, then I believe it is you, Corvax, who deserves to be slaughtered."

A stillness followed Jazmin's cold words. Corvax shrank down to the size of a beach ball as he tucked in his legs, trying to make himself look as inconspicuous as possible. The rest of the room did not move a muscle either, as if they, too, were afraid to become Jazmin's next target. When it appeared obvious that no one was going to contradict her, she sat back down, nodding in response to a grateful and appreciative smile from Lapblood.

Gregor felt as though someone had just slapped him on the back of the head. Jazmin had not only said the very things he had planned on saying, but she delivered them with a certain passion that seemed very unlike her. In the relatively few times that he had even talked to her, she did not appear like the kind of person who could so much as raise her voice, let alone stand up in front of a room full of delegates and make that sort of announcement. To Gregor, it did not seem like Jazmin had a care in the world, as she was always quiet and calm, never showing any emotion. This particular display of assertiveness was definitely something to look further into in the future, Gregor decided.

That, however, was not the crux of the matter, either. It seemed as though all authority Luxa had over the group had started to recede. He looked over and gently nudged her hand, hoping that the queen might take control of the situation like she'd been doing so nicely in the past. Luxa, however, seemed far too engrossed in giving Jazmin a look filled to the brim with apprehension, causing Gregor to wonder what was up with _that_ relationship. So much he had missed…would any of these mysteries ever be explained to him?

"Let us take a few steps back, here," Vikus said in that same, monotone older-man voice that Gregor had grown accustomed to. He didn't miss how Luxa's grandfather cast her a reproachful glance, and gently rubbed at the skin of her palm, trying anything to bring her back into attention. "No one ever said anything about a fight. I, personally, would greatly enjoy seeing this dispute settled in a non-violent way. The last thing we need is more casualties to grieve over." Gregor was suddenly reminded of how different Vikus and his late wife Solovet were – Solovet did not miss an opportunity to go into battle if it gave her what she wanted; Vikus was all for peace.

A dull murmur spread throughout the room, as the delegates considered what had been said. Gregor tried, once more, to get Luxa to so much as look at him, but she simply sat in her chair, looking both lost and disoriented. He knew that he was not alone in seeing this display of weakness – the shiners and spinners both talked amongst themselves whilst looking at Luxa with distrust and doubt. This worried Gregor – shouldn't Luxa be representing them, representing Regalia? "Luxa…" he whispered quietly in her ear, letting the tip of his nose touch her cheek. The queen leaned into him slightly, but otherwise did not change her position, to Gregor's disappointment.

"Overlander, please describe to us what a 'dog' looks like," Vikus continued. Gregor wondered how it must look to the delegates – Luxa's aged, frail, deteriorating grandfather taking control of a situation that somehow she let slip.

He considered the inquiry for a moment. "Well, not so different from the Cutcer told it. Most of them have short fur, although the colors can deviate heavily from gray and white. Many dogs are black or brown, or any number of color combinations."

"What about green? Can they be green?" Howard's flier Nike asked curiously.

Gregor shook his head. "No. Nor can they be yellow or red or pink. It's only earthly colors, you know?" Some creatures nodded to show their understanding, but most continued to listen in silence. "The same goes for the eyes, although those _can_ be green and blue, but not white. All dogs have ears on their heads, but not all ears are the same size or shape on every dog. And they all walk on four legs."

"And the noise? What of the horrible noise that Cutcer spoke of?" asked the one nibbler Gregor recognized – Heronian.

He thought. "I suppose he could have been referring to a dog's bark. I don't know if I would call it a 'horrific noise', but I guess to someone who's never heard it before, it might be frightening."

Gregor hoped that his explanation would suffice, but of course, it was never that easy. "Gregor, we cannot possibly know what a 'bark' sounds like," Howard said, "and it is crucial that we are able to recognize such a noise. You must perform it."

Gregor did a double-take. "You want me to—what?"

"Perform it, Gregor. Show us what it sounds like."

Though he knew that time was probably precious at the moment, he could not help but feel utterly bemused at such a request. Here he was, surrounded by representatives of almost every species in the Underland, and he was being asked to…

But then again, said a voice in his head, Howard made an excellent point. If this all was real, if it wasn't all just part of some sickening dream he was having, Gregor had a responsibility to show them. Otherwise, how would they know what sound to look out for? A sudden mental picture flashed through his mind of Luxa, alone and frightened out of her mind, coming face to face with a vicious beast, whose appearance she could not have predicted because he, Gregor, refused to show her what a dog sounded like. The very image sent shivers down his spine.

Trying to pretend like he was the only one in the room, Gregor inhaled deeply and barked a few times, doing his best impression of the most rabid dog he could muster.

Never before had he felt so foolish in his life than in the moments that followed. Had it not been for his boyish pride and the grateful look that Luxa gave him, he likely would have taken his leave right then and there. Fortunately for him, however, no one had the nerve to laugh, or if they did, they did a good job of holding it in. Whatever the reason, Gregor was thankful for receiving a decent reaction.

"Thank you, Overlander," Vikus went on. "I am sure that we will all remember that. Now, I believe the young pup also said something about a tail?"

"Yeah, that's true as well," Gregor said, relieved at being able to focus his energies towards something different. "Most dogs have tails, and they can either be very short or relatively long. Most are medium-sized, however, so…"

"So that supports the theory that the monster Cutcer described is a dog even more," York finished for him.

It was quiet again, and Gregor had a pretty good idea as to why. There was only one aspect of the creature that they had not yet discussed, and he was sure it was on everyone's mind. In the end, Temp was the one to say something regarding it. "Teeth, bad? Teeth, big? Teeth, long?"

Gregor didn't answer for a while, as he thought of the best way to phrase what he wanted to say. He did not want to scare them, especially Luxa, who looked like she'd had enough troubles to last her a lifetime. Then again, he did not want to give them a false impression that gave them a false sense of security. What was that Shakespeare had written in Macbeth? Security is mortal's chiefest enemy.

"I'm not entirely sure what to tell you all," he finally said, honestly. "I mean, yes, the teeth can grow to a respectable size, but they are always proportional to the size of the dog itself. If it helps any, its teeth cannot possibly be as large as Cutcer described them." He noticed that several creatures shuddered, as they too, were probably remembering how the pup told them the monster's teeth were as big as his whole body. "After all, it's just not possible, unless – "

And then everything stopped. Not a muscle twitched, not a body quivered, and no sound escaped Gregor's suddenly frozen mouth. The flow of oxygen into his lungs appeared to have halted, too. The circulation of his blood came to a seeming standstill. The lights of the surrounding candles no longer flickered. It seemed as though nobody moved, nobody breathed. Time was laughable, movement a hilarity. A truly surreal thing was happening that could not be explained. Even the air stilled whatever little movement it might have emitted. As his brain devoured through heaps of newly remembered information at rager-like speed, Gregor felt the pieces come together into place in one sudden, painful blow. His face bore the most horrorstruck expression conceivable, because with a harsh, jerking gasp, Gregor realized the implications of his own words.

There was a surplus of rats in the Overland. Likewise, there were numerous bats, cockroaches, mice, lizards, scorpions, fireflies, ants, and moles. Yet up in the Overland, none of these creatures had the ability to really think, let alone speak in understandable English. All of these creatures, also, have more than quadrupled their size in the Underland. An Overland rat might have gotten only as big as one of Ripred's paws. Hell, the only creature for whom this appeared to _not_ apply was the human. Humans were right around the same size in both the Underland and the Overland, and their level of intelligence was also fairly equidistant. Gregor swallowed hard, quickly doing the math in his head. There was an eighty-nine percent chance that what would rank as one of his worst nightmares might come true.

"What is it, Gregor?" Luxa asked in a small voice that did not sound like it was hers. "What are you thinking about?" Clearly she and the rest of the room's inhabitants were not oblivious to his sudden epiphany.

Inhaling deeply, Gregor bit down hard on his tongue, so to regain his ability to talk. It didn't matter that he still couldn't move – that was not the priority of the moment. He tasted the iron in the blood, the salt which spread throughout, and found it in himself to share what he'd realized. "Every creature in the Underland, except for the humans, is a vastly larger version of their cousins up in the Overland. I assume that most of you know already that we have many rats up in the Overland, but they are miniscule compared to you," he said, pointing at Lapblood. "Similarly, every creature in the Underland, again, except for the humans, has a vastly greater intelligence level than those of their miniature versions up above. My-my fear is…that…" He tried desperately to be able to finish – he'd gotten this far, he couldn't quit now! But whatever sound came from his mouth was muted, as he mouthed wordlessly his finale.

It did not appear that he really needed to finish, however. Most of those in the chamber had realized what this meant – the horror it implied.

"Is this it, then?" one of the shiners said in what had to be a careless voice. "Does this mean the end for the gnawers? What a pity."

"Oh, set aside your damned prejudices already!" yelled Mareth. "I think it has already been established that we will not turn our backs on the gnawers. If you have otherwise plans, I am sure Queen Luxa will be more than happy to send you away." Gregor decided against mentioning that Queen Luxa didn't look in a fit enough state to be happy about anything, let alone give orders. Mareth's words, however, produced the desired effect, for the shiner shut up.

"What of their temperaments?" asked Lapblood. "Will they attack without provocation? Are they able to see reason?"

"I-I don't know…" Gregor said, feeling his voice begin to croak. "Those in the Overland who have been trained by humans can understand when something is important and when it isn't. As far as violence…" he paused once more, internally debating with himself over the correct way to phrase what he knew he must say, "I know that there have been numerous cases where normal-sized, Overland dogs have been able to kill humans."

He felt Luxa stiffen next to him, and placed an arm around her shoulders, drawing her nearer. It no longer seemed to matter that they were in public, that these all were representatives of their respective species, all in high-ranking positions. He would do what came naturally to him now, and deal with the consequences later. And besides, it wasn't as though everyone in the Underland didn't know that he and Luxa were together now.

"Gregor…how sure are you about all of this?" Vikus asked quietly. If anyone in the room breathed at that moment, it could be heard by all the others.

He considered it all once more. The bloody remains of gnawers, the teeth marks on the flesh, the statistics against them, and his own gun feelings. They all concurred. "I'm fairly positive. It's got to be a dog. And a large one, at that. As far as intelligence goes, I cannot make a conclusive statement at this time, but I think it is better if we prepare against the worst-case scenario."

He let it all out in a single _whoosh_ of breath, and at the end of it found himself choking for air once again. How long would it be before speaking finally did him in? Feeling more and more exhausted with the passing time, Gregor plopped back down onto his chair, sure that no one would mind. At that moment he wanted nothing more than to sleep, to succumb to the weights that must've been attached to his eyelids.

"Prepare. That is the word, is it not?" spoke Queen Athena of the fliers. She had a deep, lengthy voice that seemed to stretch every syllable as far as they could go without breaking. "And how exactly are we going to prepare?"

"The real question is, do we even need to prepare?" came the voice of a nibbler that Gregor did not know. "As much as I hate to agree with a shiner, do we really know that the dog will attack any of our homes? What if it really is going only after the gnawers?"

"But on the other hand, what if it is on its way over to your lair, right now, Log?" countered Howard, his face flushing with tiredness. "What if it has already started its next kill?"

"That is a lot of 'what ifs,'" Heronian pointed out. "I do not think we ought to make any moves until we have solid, proven facts to deal with. Let us not assume anything."

Gregor turned his head in surprise, as he felt Luxa finally sit up, her eyes wide open and her facial features sharp. Were it not for the matted down hair and dark circles under her eyes, she may as well have looked the same as Gregor remembered the night before. "You make a stellar point, there, Heronian. Then let us lay out the facts that we have to deal with."

It was a wise move, Gregor concluded. As soon as Luxa made a stand and spoke out, energy seemed to have flown in from somewhere and taken hold of every living being in the chamber. Suddenly all faces looked alert and ready to proceed. Gregor secretly wondered if Luxa had purposely done this, but now was not the right time to ask. "I will begin. If anyone wishes to add, simply speak at your free will. That many gnawers have been dying lately is a fact."

"That there is a dog in the Underland which is responsible for these killings is a fact," Gregor added in right away.

"Thhhhatttt thhhhisssss monsssssterrr issss worrrrrthy offf ourrr fearrrr issss a fffacttttt," the hisser said quietly in that same voice that intrigued Gregor so.

"That we have a responsibility to do something about this monster is a fact," piped up the third spinner whom Gregor did not know. He found it quite surprising to hear the spider take this take on the situation, for based on Corvax's outbursts, he'd come to assume that the whole three of them were mutually agreed on their stand.

"That we have a responsibility to make sure our friends and families are aware of the danger is a fact," added Heronian.

"Warn all," Temp put in, one of his front legs scratching at the floor in insistence. "Warn all, we. Warn all."

"Yes. We have to warn everyone," Nike said loudly, as those in the room began to step outside of their reserve shells and make their points of view heard. "All the creatures in the Underland have a right to live. No one," she said, flapping her wings in emphasis, "deserves to be slaughtered like those gnawers in the photos."

"What about the diggers? And the cutters?" Log asked.

Vikus gave a scoff that seemed, to Gregor, very unlike him. "The cutters are not worried about any threats," he spoke formally, but Gregor could have sworn he detected a note of bitterness somewhere in there. "Their enormous numbers will ensure the survival of their species through virtually anything."

"But we must be cautious not to instill panic," Luxa went on. "We do not want to create any more chaos than has already been brewed. That may very well do more harm than good. As such, I propose that put the facts together, here and now, and come up with a plan that fulfils the goals and wishes of everyone. Now, am I correct in assuming that our number one priority is keeping safe ourselves, our families, and our homes?" There was a tidal wave of nodding, as heads of various shapes and sizes bobbed up and down. "I have given this matter great thought. Each and every one of you is welcome to stay within the secure walls of Regalia." There was an impressive murmur at these words, but none which were coherently enough spoken for Gregor to understand. "So long as you can fend for yourself and create your own shelter, you are welcome here. We will do our best to protect you. Unfortunately, I realize that we do not have enough room to host every single member of your species. Therefore, I have decided that our accommodations will be handed out on a first-come, first-serve basis. I am sure that those who are not able to come to Regalia will likewise find themselves welcome at the Fount, will they not?" she asked, turning to face York, who in turn looked uncomfortable under the pressure of so many gazes.

"Well, yes. Yes, of course." He seemed to have made up his mind, however, for Howard's father straightened up in his chair and sharpened his eyes. "Yes, the Fount will be happy to be a temporary home to those wishing to make is so. As long as you can feed yourselves and find places to sleep, I have no problems with this arrangement."

"Then it looks like we have come to an agreement," Luxa said happily, now turning to Lapblood. "I understand that some individuals will be harder to convince than others as far as staying with us. However, I hope that the gnawers, who have seen the violence first-hand, will understand the benefits of our offer, and make the best decision, even if that decision need be guided."

Lapblood shocked Gregor by giving Luxa a respectful bow. "I shall try my best with them, Your Highness. However, I would like to add that this entire process of deciding and convincing would be a lot easier if the Peacemaker were around."

Luxa's smile disappeared, obstructed by a deep frown that seemed far too dominant on her face to be of much notice. "Yes, that would be convenient… Unfortunately the _Peacemaker_ has decided that he has priorities that go above and beyond making peace. I shall see what I can do, however. I promise you that much."

"I am grateful," Lapblood said, and gave her another courteous bow.

Thankful to have Luxa back in charge and acting her part as queen, Gregor once more located her hand and joined it with his. She smiled down upon him, and it was one of those rare smiles that it seemed Gregor had forgotten overnight. For a moment – and only that long – a warm, gentle feeling spread throughout his body. For a moment – no longer than such – he got the feeling that maybe, just maybe, everything was going to be all right.

Just then, as if on cue from a director with a very crude sense of humor, the doors through which Hazard had been escorted earlier few open, and Lucent – a young man who served as a servant in Regalia's castle, burst through and inside. His hair was all over the place and he panted heavily, having clearly been in a hurry.

"What is this?" Luxa said, outraged. "This is a confidential meeting, Lucent! I demand an explanation for your untimely intrusion this instance, or I am afraid your services will no longer be required in Regalia!"

"I am highly remorseful, Your Highness," Lucent all but screamed in his attempt to catch breath. "Perdita sent me here to tell you that diggers have made their way into the city. They have entered the castle and requested an audience with Your Highness. They say they come in peace."

Luxa's brows furrowed even deeper. "The diggers? Why in the name of Sandwich would they come here? What business have they?"

"I do not know, Your Highness, but they are waiting just outside the door. Perdita has requested that you grant them the audience they desire. That is all." Gregor could not help but feel just the tiniest bit of sympathy for the panting servant.

The queen sighed deeply, closed her eyes for a moment, rubbed at her temples, was silent for a minute or so, then complied. "Very well. Let them in."


End file.
